


Try My Reins and My Heart

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Matches After Midnight [11]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Communication, Consensual Kink, Control, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Future Fic, Humor, Kinbaku, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Chloe, POV Lucifer, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 04, Rope Bondage, Sexual Content, Shibari, Stress Relief, kink as a cure for what ails you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22963306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: After four months of being in a relationship with Chloe, Lucifer has become attuned to her subtle, work-related anxieties. Sometimes finding rest is a matter of being vulnerable in another's care.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Matches After Midnight [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620778
Comments: 111
Kudos: 408





	1. Bearing with One Another in Love

**Author's Note:**

> For [Fuckruary 2020](https://freakyfebruary.tubmlr.com)'s "Shibari" and "Dom/sub" prompts. The title references Psalm 26:2, "Examine me, O Lord, and prove me; try my reins and my heart."

Lately Lucifer had been thinking of that sniveling prat who fancied himself a big bad wolf chasing weak, fluffy bunnies. The Players case was old news, but memorable, if for no other reason than Chloe Decker popped him a good one with a lead bullet during the case, forever upending his world. But he'd also never forgotten that misguided cretin's affections, how he'd insisted he had not grown tired of his girlfriend of four months. At the time, Lucifer couldn't fathom it— _months_ , with the _same_ person? He understood now, from being with Eve, and far more so from being with Chloe.

"Deckerstar," as he liked to think of them together, was coming up on four months. Not that he concerned himself with trivial anniversaries. Much. 

Time did interesting things to a relationship. In a way, it gave one the reverse of what humans called beer goggles. The longer you were with someone, the more you saw their quirks and flaws. The question, then, he'd decided—with some input from Linda—was what you did with the information, consciously or otherwise; if it made you care for the other person less. Eve's flaws had driven him insane, but she worked with Mazikeen. Chloe's flaws _could_ drive him insane, but had a way of endearing him to her more often than not. It was like crisps and Nutella: no good explanation for why the salt-sweet of it worked, but it bloody well did.

Chloe's greatest flaw had always been that she didn't know when to stop working and start having fun. In a word, she could be a buzzkill. That had changed a bit since they'd become friends and even more since they'd become lovers, and Lucifer was quite content to take all the credit for it, but the truth was she still overworked herself.

It started with a near-all-nighter here, a mentally exhausting stakeout there. And violence? Well, _that_ she let wash over her—tried to, anyway, but failed, in actuality. She rarely took downtime when it was offered or encouraged. When it was mandated, she tended to turn her attention onto the things she'd let fall behind in the name of work.

He'd never noticed just how _much_ she overdid it until she became a regular fixture in his bed. Now he saw how the detective was a master at hiding behind professionalism. Saw, too, the price she paid. Her stress manifested in a dozen subtle frustrations, in that ache she got low in her back, in restless sleep, in more difficulty achieving orgasm. Lucifer watched it happen, time and again, this cycle she could not quite break. 

And he had thoughts and a snaking desire to take control of the situation in the way he knew best.

After all, he could empathize. He had hellish loops of his own that he'd been suffering for millennia. Linda had helped him break free of some, the ones that mattered most, perhaps. But therapy—the endless talk, talk, talk—was not the only antidote on the market. Far from it. 

Sometimes the best way to lighten your load was to hand the reins over to someone else, at least for a little while. To be broken and rebuilt by another's hands. And, really, who held the reins of a human soul better than the Devil himself?

There was strength in vulnerability. 

* * *

***

* * *

Lucifer waited for the right moment to talk to Chloe about taking things to the next level, but part of Chloe's workaholism was simply that there actually _was_ quite a lot of work to be done, which meant the right moment never seemed to present itself. He was not stalling. It was only... Perhaps there was no right moment to tell someone who was very headstrong that you wanted to rocket them to subspace if they were willing. He wouldn't know. He'd never had to _talk_ about this with anyone. He'd also never exactly, specifically, wanted it with anyone. He'd given and received plenty and enjoyed it all, but it had been at the behest of others.

He dreamed of tying her up, and not with the frilly cuffs they'd played with, to date, either. He dreamed of holding her, as he had once held the chemical elements of stars, of containing her until she erupted, burning bright and free. He thought a lot about it in the shower when he slept too late to join hers. He wanted and wanted, but the moment was never right to discuss it.

She was busy. They were busy. He was not stalling.

Their four-month anniversary arrived, and whilst the vibrator he got to commemorate the occasion was a resounding success—multiple times—the month itself had turned unexpectedly morose and long, this day most of all. 

Their latest case had taken a grim turn involving children. If ever there were a time Chloe needed a break from loathsome human filth, it was now. The killer was behind bars, finally—in solitary, actually—where he would have a very real fear of the Devil to keep him company. The young victims who had survived their captor's cruelty were being cared for as best as possible. Now, for Chloe at least, it was only a matter of paperwork and, well, moving on, but Lucifer could see the case had burrowed into her like a parasite. 

Even he, who knew personally that there was an afterlife, had to admit there was something deeply disturbing about Earth's tragedies and their ripple effect. Never mind the philosophical quandary that inevitably followed: _Why didn't Dad care a whit about any of it_? The answer, of course, was that He was a right wanker, but the existential angst persisted, nonetheless. 

Chloe's hands shook when she unlocked the door to her apartment, but then she withdrew the key, took a deep breath, and transformed before Lucifer's eyes. The woman was part chameleon. She entered her home, beaming, calling out for her daughter, who jumped up from the blue sofa and pummeled into them like a battering ram that spoke two hundred words per minute.

While Chloe paid the doddering old woman who had been watching Beatrice—did she _still_ need a sitter? the girl seemed perfectly capable—Lucifer began rummaging through the fridge and cupboards.

"What're you looking for?" the child asked, poking her head into the fridge with him.

"Something with an overabundance of fat and sugar."

Tragically, one of Chloe's other flaws was she was fond of granola and artificial sweeteners that coated the tongue with their lies. And yet somehow _he_ was the heathen.

The child whispered like an accomplice, "I have chocolate cake."

" _Do_ you now?" He turned to her slowly. "Will you share?"

She held her chin in deep thought. "For a price."

"Of course." Lucifer held back a laugh as he pulled out his money clip. He would never admit how much he enjoyed interacting with this pint-sized deviant. "How much are we talking?" 

"Can we decide that later?" She was the picture of innocence.

"Nice try," he chuckled, "but I don't sign blank checks unless I'm the one filling in the details. Call it devilish experience. Will a hundie suffice?"

"Hmm, make it two."

Even he knew that was an exorbitant amount for a slice of cake in this economy, but he shrugged and handed it over. He watched, amused, as the child held the bills up to the light skeptically, shrugged as well, and stuffed them into a trouser pocket that was embroidered with a white daisy. Turning, she opened a cupboard, revealing a cake saver filled with a large chocolate cake from which only a single slice had been taken. They grinned at each other.

The front door opened and shut, and soon Chloe joined them in the kitchen. "It worries me when you two are thick as thieves." The child giggled as her mother combed fingers through her hair. "What are you doing?"

Cake saver top in hand, Lucifer pulled his head out from the cupboard. "There's cake," he said. 

It seemed like enough of an answer, really.

"For _after_ dinner," Chloe said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Aww," her offspring whined, and Lucifer barely refrained from doing the same. 

Sighing instead, he replaced the top, even as he vowed to steal away a slice when Chloe wasn't looking. Perhaps he'd steal one for the urchin, too.

"Well, what's for dinner, then?" he asked. "I'm famished." He often was. Gluttony came naturally to him.

Chloe gravitated toward the fridge. "Spaghetti."

"I don't want spaghetti," the child announced. 

"Monkey, you _love_ spaghetti. You were the one who asked me to make it, remember?"

"I want cake." At Chloe's narrowed gaze, she amended, "Or something else."

Her mother wearily removed a glass container of prepared sauce from the fridge and let it drop to the counter with a hard clunk. "Well, there's spaghetti, Trix."

The child crossed her arms and screwed up her face into a deep scowl. "I want a _burger_."

"I'll get us burgers, shall I?" Lucifer offered quickly, disliking the read of the room. He made for the door.

"She's having spaghetti." Chloe snagged hold of his elbow and glared at him before turning her ire onto her daughter. "That's how it is."

The air crackled with energy as Lucifer removed his flask from a pocket and unscrewed its cap.

"I don't _want_ spaghetti!" the child yelled, and stamped her foot.

Lucifer grimaced as he drank. This kept up, and he'd need to step out for a smoke.

"Well, you can make yourself something else if you want to figure out how to," Chloe said with chilling calm. "Otherwise, you can go to your room. Big girls don't have tantrums over dinner." She filled a pot with water and slammed it on the stovetop. "And take your backpack off the table. You put it on the ground all the time."

Casting an evil eye toward her mother, Beatrice turned to the table where she had discarded her backpack after school. Grabbing the bag by its top handle, she yanked it ferociously. It flew sideways, scraping across the tabletop, and slamming into a glass of orange juice that had been left out. Perhaps if Lucifer had been closer, he could have caught it, but he stood too far away. The glass toppled and rolled, spilling old juice across the table and onto one of the soft kitchen chairs, before sailing off the edge to the hardwood floor where it promptly broke into pieces.

There was a small pause before Chloe exploded.

" _Beatrice Elise Espinoza_!" she yelled. "How many _times_ have I told you—"

"I'm sorry!"

"Sorry isn't good enough! Sorry is what you've said to me the last ten times you broke something by being careless."

Beatrice dropped her bag and bent to pick up the largest hunk of glass. 

"Child, _don't_!" Lucifer shouted, and her hand froze an inch above the glass. Gentling, he added, "There's no need to make a blood-orange cocktail."

Beatrice relaxed. Standing again, she grabbed hold of her backpack and looked at her mother. "Do I still need to go to my room?"

"Yes, please," Chloe said, tense.

A moment later, the door to the child's bedroom raked closed with a bang. Chloe pulled a tea towel from the oven handle and went to sop up liquid from the table.

" _Well_ ," Lucifer started. "I'll get the broom, shall I?"

"Just give me a minute. I've got it," Chloe snapped, scrubbing up liquid with a look of disgust. 

Folding his hands before himself, he leaned against the counter and watched her move about, less fluffy bunny, more prowling, untamed tigress. 

" _Do_ you?" he challenged, unable to keep the teasing note from his voice.

She paused, broom and dustpan in hand, and narrowed her eyes at him. Ooh, Maze was right. She _did_ have an angry vein. "Yeah."

"So the whole going off on your offspring over a bit of cheap glassware..."

"No parenting advice from you, _thank you_." Chloe slammed the dustpan against his chest. "If you're not gonna shut up, help."

"Oh, so I _can_ help."

He grimaced as he pulled the dustpan away from himself. It left behind a thin line of crumbly hair and grit that he brushed away from his navy Armani with distaste. Kneeling, he helped Chloe clean up the glass.

"I should go apologize to her," she sighed a moment later.

An apology, from a parent—what a novel concept. Then again, the truce he had brokered with dear old Dad was nearly as good. At least he wasn't rotting away in Hell anymore. 

"Possibly, though she's quite belligerent for one who pays no rent," he said. "I've no idea where she gets the attitude from, do you? Must be Daniel." Chloe snorted, and he smiled. But it fell as she sighed and tipped more glass into the waste bin with a shaky hand. "It's all right, Chloe." He'd certainly cleaned, or had cleaned, bigger messes in his own home. 

"I know."

When all the pieces of glass were picked up, and the shards were swept and vacuumed, Chloe stood before her forgotten container of spaghetti sauce. Leaning into the counter, she massaged her lower back. 

Lucifer watched her for a long moment. There were many things he didn't understand about humans and needed help seeing. Having his "mojo" crippled with Chloe was...difficult, if often delightful, too. But when he _could_ sense her needs, as he thought he sensed them now, he had a deep desire to meet them. To follow her car in the night and ensure her daughter's safety, to sing silly songs to remind her of who they were as partners, to throw proms and battle with his wings, and even, if needs must, to reign in Hell.

Crowding up to her, he slid his hands down her back and kneaded into the flare of her hips. "This is actually about the case, isn't it?"

"A little," she admitted, and puffed out a soft breath when he hit the right spot. "But dinnertime shouldn't be such a battle, anyway. She's not a baby."

He couldn't begin to understand why she spoke with such a wistful tone about that, nor did he know why the child couldn't have what she desired, but these days he knew better than to say such things in the moment. What he _could_ say, though, was Chloe needed a break, and soon. Blowing up at her daughter wasn't her style. Perhaps he had to _make_ the right moment for the conversation they needed to have. 

"Is the child with you this weekend?"

Chloe melted against him as his fingers dug deeper. "She's with Dan."

"Perfect. Clear your schedule."

"Oh, Lucifer. I've got a ton of things to catch up on after all the late nights with the Goff case. I'm not really in the mood to go anywhere."

"Who said anything about going anywhere?"

"So, what are you suggesting? A staycation?"

"Something like that." He snaked one hand down her front and curled it round to hold her tight. "Haven't you learned by now that you don't need to set foot outside L.A. for _me_ to take you places you've never been?" 

He could feel the eye-roll. "You're such an ass." 

"Be that as it may," he said, grinning into her hair, "come to Lux on Friday after you've finished with all the blasted paperwork? I'd like to discuss something with you."

" _Discuss something_ with me?" Chloe snorted a laugh. "Is that, like, a metaphor?"

They could joke about metaphors now. 

"You'll just have to come and see—or see and come." He squeezed her gently. "You could do both, in theory."

"I'll be there," she said, resting against him. 

"Good." 

She patted his arm for him to release her. Turning, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek before going to speak with Beatrice, pausing only long enough to start the neglected pot of water boiling. 

As Lucifer listened to the soft, muffled voices in the other room, he felt the vestige of Chloe's body against his, entwined with the sweet agony of his want. He feared her rejection, but perhaps, he thought wryly, he should have faith in her acceptance of his desire and in his abilities to meet hers. 

Scoffing, he kicked back his flask.


	2. A Proper Time and Procedure for Every Delight

Lucifer adjusted the decanter and pitcher on his coffee table for what must have been the fifth time in the last hour. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but the impending conversation was new territory. There'd never been any need to hash out details like this. Look a human in the eye, ask after all those naughty desires hidden deep within, and off they popped to the sack or the rack or wherever else the heart willed. With Chloe, as always, it was different. 

Fortunately, he was no green lover, in any shape or sense of the word. He knew the gist of how this sort of thing went. The key was to make her feel safe and relaxed enough to accept—or deny—his proposition.

Oh, but he hoped she would accept.

When the door to the lift slid open a short while later, he turned toward it with a smile that widened even more when he saw Chloe. He didn't think he could ever grow tired of seeing her walk into his home and kick off her shoes like she owned the place. (She did, sort of. He should probably tell her about that at some point.)

"Hello, darling."

"Hey," she said, stuffing her hands into her back pockets.

He waved toward the sofa. "Come. Sit."

Chloe looked at the sofa. "Wait. You really _weren't_ kidding about a discussion?"

"I wasn't, actually." Sitting and crossing his legs, he took up his tumbler of scotch and patted the spot beside him. 

After a moment's hesitation, Chloe joined him, her body screaming with tension as her knees pressed together and her palms gripped her thighs. "Well, I'm here."

"Yes, you are." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek gently, his mouth twitching in the process. "And you're all wound up." 

She stared at him for a long moment before looking away. "Yeah, well." She frowned. "It's been a stressful week."

"Mm. It's been a stressful year," he corrected, and sipped his drink. "And that's why I'd like to help unwind you."

Chloe sighed down at her lap. "I'm not sure I'm in the mood, Lucifer. Sorry."

"No need to apologize." He set aside his liquor and looked at her pointedly. "But I'm not talking about tonight or our typical fun." Though he would not complain if they played a little.

He struggled not to laugh at her expression. Chloe was possibly the only person he'd ever met who could look eager and wary at the same time. 

"What did you have in mind?" she asked.

"You liked when I cuffed you, didn't you?" 

He knew she had. Multiple orgasms didn't lie. But he wanted to hear her say it.

"Oh." She was quiet for a moment and tucked hair behind her ears. "I mean...yeah?" She struggled to look him in the eye as she nodded. "Yes."

"How would you feel about ramping that up a little?"

"Uh..." She chewed on her lip. "What do you mean by that, exactly?"

"Well, what we did before was just a bit of bondage fun, and you and I both know you could have gotten free from those frilly things whenever you pleased. No safe words required."

"Safe words," she repeated.

"Mm. Ever needed them before?" She cringed as she recalled what was clearly a juicy memory. " _Ooh_ ," he purred, leaning closer. "Tell me the story behind _that_ look."

Chloe groaned. "There's not much to tell. Just...Dan and I did this thing once, and it was a disaster."

"The problem was Daniel, of course."

She laughed. "More like my mom was coming to visit, and you know how she is."

"Delightful? Charming?"

"Well, Ms. Delightful and Charming showed up a day early, unannounced, at the worst possible time. And Dan couldn't get the knot undone or find the scissors..." 

"See? Daniel _was_ the problem."

She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find composure. "So, yeah, that was the first and last time I let someone do something like that to me. I'm not sure a safe word would have even helped," she laughed.

Hmm. "These were ropes?"

"Straps."

"Ah." Still sounded like light bondage to Lucifer, but she clearly wasn't in a spilling-secrets mood. No matter, he supposed. "Well, no one will interrupt us here, now that I've got a lock on the blasted lift, and I assure you I am an _excellent_ rigger. Who knows where the scissors are." He grinned sharply. "Or can destroy the ropes."

He let the information sit. Leaning forward, he poured more scotch into his tumbler before picking up the pitcher of water and filling the waiting, empty glass, which he handed to Chloe. She clung to it so tightly her nails turned white. As she brought it to her mouth, the water sloshed back and forth.

"I want to top you, if you'll let me," he said without further preamble. "I think you'll like it, and frankly I think you need it."

Chloe coughed water. Lucifer barked a laugh and handed her his pocket square. 

"You think I _need_ it," she repeated, aggressively wiping at her mouth while she glared at him.

"Mm. It's a great way to relieve stress, and let's just say I've learned a thing or two about you these last several months."

She set her jaw and looked at him unflinchingly, despite the color in her cheeks. " _Top_ me," she said, and he lifted his brows. "As in..."

"Go on. You can say it."

"As in, dominate me."

"There it is!" he cheered, poking her arm gently. "Yes, exactly that."

She stared at him. "What are we talking about here? Like, whips and chains? Sex swings?"

Be still, his heart. "Well, dominance and submission is really a psychological game of wills, darling, but I was thinking more ropes—a bit of kinbaku. You might know it as shibari?" At her blank expression, he nodded. "Right, well, Japanese rope bondage—has an artistic, pleasurable bent when it's not being used for outright torturous purposes." He bared his teeth. "And I promise no torture, only a little spanking if you're a bad girl. You've seemed to enjoy that."

Chloe tapped a fingertip against the side of her glass before cutting a hesitant glance his way. "Are you, like, _bored_ with me already?" she suddenly blurted, and Lucifer reeled back. "I mean, it's okay. I-I'd understand." Her expression suggested otherwise, as well it should.

" _Chloe_ ," Lucifer said, taking hold of her chin and forcing her to look at him. "I _assure_ you, I am not the _least_ bit bored. Why would you think that?"

"I don't know," she sighed, pulling away. "Just...this is a bit of a leap, right? I mean, we've done things I've..." She laughed through discomfort. "We've done things I've never done with anyone else—and I've liked it."

"Of course you have. You're with the best, darling."

Rolling her eyes, she continued, "But maybe this is something you got from others, and I'm not giving it to you, and—"

"Right, let me stop you there. You're overthinking things," Lucifer said, holding up a hand. "As usual. I want this with _you_ , darling, not anyone else. And, well, your propensity for thinking too much leads me to believe you need a break from yourself. And I happen to know _just_ the thing."

"Sure, sexual healing," she joked.

"Well, if any cock could cure what ails you..." He grinned when she snorted. "But, no, I agree, there are limits even to my knob's healing powers. Which is precisely why you need a bit more! There's no shame in it. It's _fun_. Just don't be surprised if you enjoy it so much that you beg me for it on the regular." He nudged her with his elbow, as if she were in on some private joke. "I will happily oblige your desires, of course."

"And this is something you desire, with me, specifically?"

"You know I don't lie," he reminded her. "But if you're asking if I want to see you bound and obedient and at my mercy, then the answer is yes, of course. One thousand percent, yes."

"Why?"

Reaching out, he slid a finger beneath the collar of her shirt and hooked the chain she wore around her neck. She was wearing it the morning he returned from Hell, and he'd not seen her without it since. It went with her into the shower and swung above him like a censer in the night. With a gentle tug, he freed the bullet from its cotton confines and thumbed the unorthodox charm that had once been slick and red with his blood. 

"I've always enjoyed power and control, though you threw a spanner in that for a while, didn't you?" He smiled and rested the charm back on her chest. Holding his hand over it, he felt the beat of her pulse. "Such desires are part of what got me into trouble, you know." His gaze shifted to hers. "I'm actually _good_ at reigning; I just prefer it on my own terms. And I'd be very good for you, darling." An old warning from Linda resurfaced in his memory. "And we'll take it slowly if you want to try it," he promised.

She stared at him and chewed on the inside of her cheek, but eventually nodded. "I don't know that I'm into pain. Giving or receiving it." She frowned. "I'm pretty sure I'm _not_?"

"We can figure that out together," he soothed, and didn't bother to bring up again her affinity for giving and receiving the occasional spank. "In fact..." He stretched away from her and collected the sheets of paper he'd set out on the coffee table. Flipping them over revealed a long list of kinks, fetishes, and sex acts. Some they had discussed in passing. Most they had not. Beside each, blank lines concerning experience and interest levels waited to be filled. "Here's how we can get started," he said, handing her the papers.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him, but it was a playful look. "Paperwork?"

Lucifer chuckled. " _My_ kind of paperwork. Or, well, it is with you, since I can't simply mojo your secrets out of you." He watched her read over the list, her eyes widening every now and again. "I'll fill one of these out, too, and we can compare notes."

"Aren't you into all of this?" she asked, and briefly bit her bottom lip.

"I've done all of it," he said. "That doesn't mean I'm...into it with you or into it in general." At her look of concern, he said wryly, "Oh, come now. I'm sure you did things for Daniel that weren't _exactly_ to your tastes, but that you didn't mind doing."

"True," she admitted. "And, no, I won't tell you what it was."

Damn. 

"The bottom line, or top, as it were, is I would never do anything you didn't actually want me to, and I would never give you more than you could bear, even if all you wanted or could bear was very little." He tapped her knee with a finger. "Not to say I won't challenge you. That's part of the fun."

"Believe me, you challenge me daily," she joked without looking at him.

"Touché."

A small, fond smile quirked her lips as she continued to look over the checklist. Gone were the days when Chloe pretended not to like him—not to _love_ him, even—and mostly gone were the days when he believed he was not worthy of such devotion. 

"Some of these things we already do," she said.

"Yes."

Chloe looked up at him. "And it's the rope bondage you want to try?"

"Very much so, if you're amenable."

She studied him for another long moment before whispering, "Okay."

"Okay?" He sat up straighter, excitement flooding through him.

"Okay." She nodded. "I trust you."

His mouth stretched wide with a large grin. "You won't regret it, Chloe." 

"I know I won't," she said. "You always make sure I feel good." 

Preening beneath her praise, he stood and offered her his hand. "Shall I show you the ropes, then?"

"What? _Now_?" But she set aside the papers and her water and took his hand, just the same—and wasn't that interesting?

"Relax," he chuckled, running his thumb over her knuckles. "Just to see and touch, maybe a little demonstration if you want. We'll live to play another day." One where she hadn't worked a full shift, slogging through paperwork that had no respect for hard limits. A scene required the right headspace, especially one's first scene. "But this weekend, if you like? If you feel up for hashing out the details from that checklist and giving it all a twirl. No rush, though."

But he hoped she would desire it this weekend, if for no other reason than he wanted a single night's sleep without dreaming her bound and begging, wet and wanting. 

Lucifer drew her into his bedroom and through the hall, to his large wardrobe and what he liked to call his Cupboard of Earthly Delights. He glanced at Chloe as he opened the tall mahogany door. She was curious and stubborn, and so didn't turn away from anything he showed her, but he knew she was shy regarding this cupboard's contents, what they implied about his experience and her lack thereof. She didn't understand yet how he saw everything within as an opportunity—a chance to get to know her body, yes, but her soul, too. Souls sang like stars in the throes of passion and the depths of despair. There was nothing sweeter to him than giving her soul a place to sing with his. 

Within the cupboard were shelves, drawers, hooks, and hangers. No space was wasted, although the toys and instruments had changed a great deal in the last few months. There were some things that were not Chloe's style, nor his with her, and that suited him fine. It was true, what he had told her. Many things he had done in the pursuit of others' desires, and whilst he had enjoyed his time in that space, he was a different Devil now. His own desires loomed larger—including the desire to truss the detective up like a turkey and eat her within an inch of her life.

Pushing aside two hangers laden with belts, blindfolds, and soft ties, Lucifer reached into the back of the cupboard, where sundry rope hanks hung on hooks. He removed one of the jute bundles he preferred for shibari and offered it to Chloe. He struggled to hold back a laugh as she handled it as if it were a venomous snake. The rope was dyed a dark blood red and lay enticingly against the soft whiteness of her skin. Like strawberries and cream. 

" _Oh_ ," she said, looking up at him in surprise. "It's softer than I thought it'd be."

"Gosh, in a different context that would be a terrifying sentence." They laughed together. She was quite the pervert, it turned out, but only outside of work hours for some reason. Something about absurd human propriety. "But, yes, it has teeth, which helps with friction knots, but these ropes soften with conditioning and use," he explained, "until eventually they must be replaced."

Chloe's expression turned uncertain. "You've used this rope on other partners?"

"This has been used on me. And cleaned, of course." 

"Oh." She resumed running her fingers over the neatly folded bundle. And it was definitely doing it for him. He adjusted his stance.

"We can use something new, if you'd prefer, but I'd want time to condition the—"

" _No_ ," she said in a rush. "No, it's okay if these were just used on you." 

The sentiment was one of those which felt like a pleasurable blow to his chest. 

"Care to try it out?" he suggested quietly. "In a purely nonsexual context."

"Do you have that context?" she teased.

"Cheeky," he said, approving. "But, yes, you know I can behave. Sometimes."

She smirked. "When?"

"When it _suits_ me."

"Uh-huh." She held the rope out to him and shrugged. "Okay, fine. Show me."

Lucifer guided her toward the full-length mirror. Standing behind her, he watched her face as he lightly dragged the head of the hank down one of her toned arms. Gooseflesh trailed behind the jute. "Ropes are all about sensation," he said. "They can be quite uncomfortable, in a good way—"

"Uncomfortable?"

"Don't worry. We'll start easy."

Stretching his arms around her, he showed her which loop to pull to loosen the rope from its hank. It had always pleased him to educate as he played. Came with the territory of being the one to awaken interest in all so-called forbidden knowledge. 

With a shake of his wrist, the rope snaked free, spilling out before their feet with a soft tap as it hit the floor. Drawing the braided thread up, he found the black mark which demarcated the bight and folded the two halves in on themselves, creating the loose loop that most shibari ties required. He turned the bight toward Chloe.

"Tug on it."

Her mouth twitched as she looked at him in the mirror. "On what?"

"Very funny." He gently tapped one of her breasts with the loop. "Come on," he tempted. "Give it a go."

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed hold of it and jerked lightly.

"Oh, put your back into it, darling." She pulled on it again, this time a little harder. "You're stronger than that," he chastised. "Give it _all_ your weight and strength."

Chloe turned abruptly. A look of determination crossed her brow a split second before she yanked on the loop viciously, putting her whole body into the movement. Usually this was when Lucifer went along with her, allowing himself to be drawn into the will and whims of her body (and before her, other humans' bodies), but now he held still as a mountain, letting her test the strength of the rope and the strength of himself. Humans did not win tug-of-war games against the Devil unless he desired it or was being a particularly idiotic git when it came to self-actualization. 

"Seems sturdy," Chloe huffed, flustered and perhaps a little disappointed that the rope hadn't slipped through his fingers.

"It is," he said. "It holds very well because of the material and braiding. Loops like these, in conjunction with knots, will bind you well." She nodded, eyes focused on the rope. " _And_ , if I ever fully suspend you, they'll still hold."

Chloe's gaze jerked up to his face. " _Suspend_ me—like, _in the air_?"

"Mm, feels like flying, darling." Lucifer grinned, unrepentant. "And we both know you like that. There are simply more ways to do it than climbing aboard Devil Air or stuffing yourself into a jetliner. But never fear, I wouldn't _start_ you with full suspension." He looked at her thoughtfully. "I could, but I won't. I think." At her skeptical expression, he wagged the rope in his hand. "May I tie a little something on you?"

She touched the front of her white, cotton t-shirt and frowned. "Do I...need to get undressed?"

"Please don't," he answered, "or I promise we _will_ end up in bed." 

"Maybe I want that, after all," she said in what she probably hoped was a sultry voice. It warmed him that she was relaxed enough to be playful.

"Be good, you minx." He stepped behind her once more, rope in hand. They smiled at each other in the mirror's reflection as he stretched his arms in front of her and drew the rope by its bight once more. He slid his other hand along the cord, pulling it taut and sideways, and suddenly, it was easy between them, comfortable. The way it should be. The way, Lucifer was learning, that meant you were cherished, and cherished another in return.

He wrapped the double strands around Chloe's rib cage, just beneath her breasts. Dragging the length of the rope through the loop, he drew it tight and reversed the tension before pulling the excess rope over her right shoulder. He tucked the jute around the horizontal rope line running across her ribs and looped it through to pull it across her left shoulder.

"How's that feel so far?" he asked, catching Chloe's eyes in the mirror's reflection.

As if in a trance, she shook herself a little and took a deep breath, her body pressing against the jute. "Interesting."

"Interesting good or interesting get me the hell out of this?"

"Good. I think."

Lucifer hummed and continued his work. "I prefer ropes for dominance," he said, reversing the tension at her back once more. "Cuffs and whatnot are good for a bit of fun, but ropes take time and focus. Gives the Dominant and the submissive an opportunity to settle into their roles." He grinned faintly. "Call it Devil's meditation."

Not that many knots and forms couldn't be done swiftly, especially by one with as much experience as he had, but there was nothing wrong with building tension, in his opinion. He wove the double strands again, this time wrapping them above her left breast.

"Wait," she said, and he froze immediately, only to relax when Chloe let out a loud laugh. "Are you putting a _pentagram_ on me?"

"I am!" He laughed with her, still finding it novel to have a lover who could actually appreciate his not-so-subtle humor. "I was wondering when you'd notice." He smiled at her expression in the mirror. Even amused, she looked like a thin wire that was about to snap. Which was just the look you wanted to see. "You're looking a bit flushed," he commented, and his body ached to see it.

"I'm fine."

With a mischievous smirk, he dragged the rope around and under the growing knot at her back, where he pulled it tight and fast, making her breath hitch. She looked at him with parted lips and hooded eyes. "See, _I_ think you _like_ this."

"Maybe," she breathed out. "I'm not naked yet, though."

"True," he conceded. "And it does feel different then. But it would be all right if you didn't like it."

"You'd hang up your ropes for me?" she joked, though there was a nervous edge to the question. 

"I am probably more open to compromise in the bedroom than you think," he said seriously. "Or in the hot tub, or on the table, or late at night in the precinct parking lot. _Loved_ what you did with your tongue, by the way."

"We're lucky we didn't get caught," she said in a tone that suggested she was castigating them for such naughty indiscretions. 

That wouldn't do at all. 

He slid the rope down her back and leaned close, pressing his mouth close to her ear. "Risking getting caught is part of the fun, Detective." 

"It _was_ fun," she admitted.

Lucifer grinned and kissed her cheek. "Besides, the risk was truly minimal. What kind of Devil would I be if I couldn't get my own lover out of trouble when necessary?"

Chloe rolled her eyes.

One last time, he pulled the rope around her front, horizontally and several centimeters above her breasts. His focus splintered between his work and the way her nipples stood out beneath the soft lining of her bra. "You don't need me to tell you that you are an excellent detective with brilliant instincts," he said, and licked his lower lip. "I've learned a great deal from you." 

More than she would ever know, truly. More than he could ever repay her for, even if she demanded no payment.

"Thank you," she whispered. "That's really nice to hear, Lucifer."

"But desire?" He yanked on the rope, and she let out a huff. "That is my world. And you can learn a lot from me." 

She was still, her body coiled tight.

Lucifer knotted the working ends of the rope and tied it with the rest. When he was finished, he took hold of the central knot at her spine and tugged her backward, until she stumbled into his aching erection. "How's that feel?" he asked, admiring the crisp lines of his work in the mirror.

"Which part?" she asked breathlessly.

"The ropes, in this case," he answered with a small chuckle. "But you're welcome to compliment the rest of me."

"It's good—the ropes, I mean." She pressed back against him. "The rest of you is good, too."

"I'm glad everything meets with your approval." He swiped a finger down the curve of her shirt-covered waist. "Now... Would you like to come, darling?" 

Chloe looked at him wide-eyed. "Uh..."

He grinned at her reflection in the mirror and ground his hips into her. "You've done so well. Don't you think you deserve a little reward?"

"I thought this was supposed to be"—she raised her hands in air quotes and affected his accent—"purely nonsexual."

"Well, the ropes were," Lucifer said, giving the knot at her back a gentle shake. "You've got your clothes on and everything." He curled around her shoulder to look her in the eye. "Or maybe you're claiming you didn't get turned on during my perfectly chaste demonstration?" 

She surprised him by laughing, but it was a true, free laugh that creased the corners of her eyes and made him feel invincible. It was a laugh that cracked through the anxiety of her week.

"Is that a yes?" he teased, grabbing her hips and gently bouncing her back against him. "Yes, you're turned on? Yes, you want to come?"

Her head fell back on his chest as she moaned. "Please," she whined.

"I love when you say please," he said, and bent to press his mouth to hers.

Lucifer kissed her deeply, curling his tongue with hers as he slid his hands around her front and found the button and zipper to her jeans. He broke their kiss to look at her flushed cheeks and perky breasts in the mirror. The wine red pentagram put them on perfect, mouthwatering display, and it all called to him—his symbol on her, his body dwarfing hers at her back, her light and his dark. Leaving her jeans gaping open on coral and white striped knickers, he reached up and palmed her breasts through her shirt, scratching his thumbnails over tight, veiled peaks until her legs pressed close together and her hips rolled forward and back, seeking relief.

"I could make you come like this, you know," he told her at the shell of her ear. "I could make you come without touching you at all."

"Big talk," she said shakily, while reaching back and pulling his hips closer. 

He breathed into her hair, smelling coconut. "Big _everything_ ," he quipped, pinching through the padding of her bra.

"Touch me," she said, ignoring his innuendo. She quickly added, "Please."

"I _am_ touching you," Lucifer said, giving her breasts a shake and smiling at the jiggle.

Chloe snorted. "You know what I mean."

"Very well," he agreed, and glided his hands downward, fingers bumping over the jute wrapped around her ribcage. Down he went, stroking across her heaving diaphragm and the feminine softness of her low belly, into the depths of her jeans. Forcing his hand farther down, he cupped her sex through her knickers and clicked his tongue. "What's got you so wet?" he asked, lips brushing the corner of her mouth.

She whimpered.

"I love it," he groaned, and his cock flexed in agreement. "My ropes look good on you, don't they?" He pressed his middle fingertip to her covered clit, and she squeezed her eyes shut. It was answer enough.

Tucking two fingers beneath the elastic edge of her undies, he shifted the dampest bit of cloth aside, resting it along the edge of one outer lip. Dissatisfied, Chloe squirmed and pushed her jeans and undies down slightly, her eyes now glued to their reflection in the mirror. Crooking her arms, she reached back and between them, searching frantically for his belt buckle. With his free hand, he snatched hold of both of her wrists in a light hold.

"I'll tie these up, too, when the time comes. Then, what, Detective? Shall I read you your rights?" He ground his hips toward her again. "Perhaps I'll just fuck you and let you go with a warning."

"Fuck," she echoed, and there was something delicious about hearing such words pour from these kiss-bruised lips. 

"If I let go of your hands, will you keep them to yourself?"

Chloe nodded and relaxed her arms.

"Good." He let go, and her hands fell to her sides, where her fingers curled into her palms, over and over, with restless energy.

Lucifer hadn't quite anticipated how much he would enjoy seeing her in his ropes, even clothed. His own control was shaky, enough so that he wasn't certain he could handle having her touch him, no matter how much he desired it. He already wanted to strip her, bend her over the bloody dressing table, and make her come until she screamed. And that wouldn't do at all, not for what he was building up to here.

Slowly, slowly, slowly, he chanted to himself. If there was one place he had patience, it was here, holding others on the edge of pleasure.

Making a V with two fingers, Lucifer slid between slippery lips and spread her wide. With his other hand, he tilted her hips forward, taking her weight on his chest, so they could watch his fingers part slick pink. With her mouth gaping and breasts framed and heaving, she looked wonderfully filthy, a far cry from the buttoned-up detective who was always telling him to get in line. That was the thing he'd come to learn. She didn't _really_ want him to behave. She said she did, sometimes _thought_ she did, but in truth, she liked him, strangely enough, for who he actually was. 

Now, he skittered his fingers farther down and circled her dripping opening, easily coating his fingertips. He flicked his thumb across her clit.

Chloe whined, and he pushed a finger inside her warmth, crooking it toward their reflections in the mirror. Lucifer's mouth quirked as her eyes rolled back in her head.

They ground against each other as he fingered her, first with one finger, and then with two. She was so wet, and the wardrobe was so quiet, that he could hear as he drove into her yielding body. With his other hand, he took hold of the ropes across her chest, steadying her as she writhed upon his hand. 

"You're not such a good girl, are you, Detective?" he asked close to her ear. "Not here with me. And you like that, don't you?"

"Yes," she gasped.

This was her vulnerability, her darkness that he cradled in the palm of his hand, in fingers or tongue or cock buried deep. That, in spite of being blessed into existence, Chloe was a miracle with raw, unholy edges. She was good— _truly_ good—and brimming with desires that terrified her.

He felt her peak build, felt the soft flutter of muscles squeeze his fingers, and he backed off at once, pulling away from her gently. She looked at him, dazed and perplexed, in the mirror. 

"Lucifer?" she queried, her voice small and sweet and trusting.

He stared back at her in the mirror and flattened his palm between her hips, arresting her movement. "You're not going to come until I let you," he told her, his body throbbing with hers whilst he swirled slick fingers against the soft, bare flesh of her belly. It would be so easy to give in.

Chloe's eyes widened before narrowing. "But you—" She spluttered, turning around awkwardly with her trousers and knickers still halfway down her thighs, and wasn't _that_ a sight? "You _asked_ me if I wanted to come!"

"I _did_ ," he agreed with glee, glancing briefly to her bum in the mirror. "But I didn't say I _would_ make you come, only that I _could_."

"You're—" She huffed and angrily dragged up her clothes, grimacing slightly at wet fabric. "You're—"

"The Devil?" he suggested, lifting his brows.

She glared at him. "Lucifer, can't we just—"

"Nope," he said, and laughed at her scowl.

He knew from past experience that she liked this bit of torture. It was, in fact, the very first sign he'd had that Chloe enjoyed surrendering to his will. He wanted more than a bit of control now, and thought she wanted that, too, but they had time to hash out the finer details. He needed to know her limits. _Chloe_ needed to know her limits.

"You have homework," he said.

"Homework," she repeated, a little breathless and a lot petulant. Poor, poor Detective.

"Mm, the checklist I showed you earlier? Bring it back to me tomorrow. Maybe I'll let you come then."

"Back to you?" Her brows furrowed. "You don't want me to stay?"

"Stay for dinner," he said, "but then, as much as it pains me"—quite literally—"you should go. You need time to think about this on your own." Though he wished it were otherwise, he knew he intimidated her in this department, with his encyclopedic volume of partners and Cupboard of Earthly Delights. It would hardly do for his presence to affect her judgment. 

"Okay," she whispered.

Lucifer patted her gently. "Let me get these ropes off you, love."

Breathing deeply through his nose in a fruitless attempt to calm his body, he turned her back around. They grew quiet while he set about removing the pentagram. She wriggled as the ropes slid away. Even through clothing, they could leave an imprint that might tingle or itch as normal blood flow resumed. Hydrating more would help.

When the last of the jute came away from her body, he smoothed a hand down her side and checked in. "Everything okay?"

"I'd be better if you'd let me come." She turned and looked up at him, and because she wasn't overthinking anything, it was a seductive gaze that nearly broke him. "I could make _you_ come," she offered, and reached for where his cock still stood at attention in his trousers.

Lucifer barked a laugh and danced away from her touch. "Nice try." He drew the rope back up in his hands and made quick work of returning it to its neat hank. "But no." 

Despite the pout, Chloe watched the hypnotic back-and-forth of his movements with open curiosity. "How are you going to tie me up when we... When you really do it?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," he answered, finally calming now that his hands were away from her heat and thudding pulse. "I might decide on the day." With a final knot, the bundle was back in order, and Lucifer leaned forward, kissing her quickly on the lips. He dragged the edge of the jute between her breasts before turning away to his cupboard and hanging the hank on its hook. "Why don't you go get cleaned up, and I'll order us dinner, shall I?"

"Okay," she sighed, and with a sly grin, began peeling off her top. She was still very aroused, if those pretty peaked nipples behind the thin cream fabric of her bra were any indication.

It took everything in him to stuff his hands in his trouser pockets and appear unaffected. "Don't think you can jill off without me knowing, either," he said, and turned on his heel to leave the wardrobe.

In his living room, Lucifer poured himself a drink and picked through his phone, hunting for a chef who owed the Devil. The restaurant business was notoriously fickle and cutthroat, and a solid ten percent of L.A.'s restaurateurs were up to their eyeballs in devilish IOUs. He swiped and swiped, but his head wasn't exactly on the task as he heard the shower start up and imagined long, wet legs. His heart beat fast in his chest, and an afterimage of breasts framed by his star tortured him sweetly.

He sipped his scotch, trying and failing to curb his excitement. Chloe hadn't refused him, and he burned with that feeling of pride he got whenever he helped her discover desires she couldn't name or gave her what she needed, today's orgasm notwithstanding. His eyes skirted to the waiting checklist on the coffee table. How many doors might it blast open?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to [Arlome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/pseuds/Arlome) and [Obli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla).


	3. He Shall Give You the Desires of Your Heart

After loading clothes into the dryer and changing into pajamas, Chloe poured herself a glass of wine and sat at her kitchen table with a pen and Lucifer's checklist. It wasn't wrong to call it homework. About two hundred items were on the list, all in small print. For each, there were two zero-to-five scales on which she could rate how interested she was in giving or receiving something; a third, different scale allowed her to reveal her related experience. 

Overwhelmed, she began by focusing on the things she _had_ done. That included most of the sexual activities at the top of the list, which she made quick work of marking with her pen. She was well into her thirties and had been in multiple relationships throughout the years. There wasn't much she hadn't tried at least once, vaginally, orally, or with the most common of toys. Anal sex was less charted territory, maybe, but not uncharted. A slight smile pulled at her mouth as she sipped her wine and drew another circle around another number. This could be fun, she decided. Her experience with some of these things might actually shock Lucifer. 

Like, roleplay? _They_ hadn't talked about it much yet, but Dan had been into it. So much so that a quiet, wounded part of her had always wondered if her acting career had been her appeal to him in the first place, though he'd denied as much on multiple occasions. He'd had a thing for hot bosses and teachers in pencil skirts. She'd never understood where either interest came from, but she'd pulled out all the stops and he'd gotten his _raise_ and his _F_ , many times. Now, Chloe rolled her eyes and indicated that roleplay was something she was okay with giving, but didn't have much interest in receiving. Except maybe for the horns that kept appearing in her dreams, even now, though _that_ particular fantasy wasn't one she was ready to share with a horny, hornless Devil. 

The list, which went far beyond any vanilla bedroom, became both easier and harder to navigate, the more she worked her way through it. She wasn't scandalized by anything on the checklist, so much as...astonished to think of herself doing some of these things. Admittedly, some of it she had to look up on the internet. 24/7 D/s? What the hell was figging? (Two hard limits, it turned out.) Human _furniture_? Just how heavy were nipple weights? Some women wore weights on their _labia_? 

"Pet play..." she murmured, nose scrunching as she circled a number.

She drank down her wine and tried to set aside her judgment. Soon, she had to, if she didn't want to be a hypocrite. She came across items that gave her pause, where her pen hovered above negatives and neutrals just a hair too long. Was she into leather or tickling? Did she want to be gagged with rings, with rubber balls, with toys, with bits, with cloth? What about more than a hand smack to the ass—what about a flogger, a crop, a belt? Did she ever want to whip him? Could she see herself calling Lucifer names or being called names herself? Was she Chloe or Detective or pet, or something else entirely? 

It was all so open-ended. 

No, _she'd_ never do _that_. Well, _maybe_ , if Lucifer wanted...

But was that true, really? Was that all there was to it? 

What _did_ she desire? 

Chloe thought she knew herself, but she'd been wrong before—about old boyfriends, about Dan, about the man she thought was Marcus Pierce. Even about that girl from makeup she'd kissed on a late night dare after rehearsal. And she'd been wrong about Lucifer, too. Lucifer, who had asked her on the very first day they'd met what she desired, and in a way, had been asking every day since as he peacocked his way into the precinct and barged into her home until she welcomed him; until he stumbled into her Dodge, smelling of Hell as she threw herself over the console to get to him. He had turned out to be exactly what she'd been looking for: a wonderful mix of adventure and mischief and loyalty.

She tapped the end of her pen against the table. Sure, some of these things she'd never do, and those she declared hard limits, but other experiences... What was the harm in trying them with someone she trusted? That could be fun, too. 

Her mind wandered to the memory of Lucifer's ropes pressing against her ribs, containing her in a way other bondage she had tried had not. It should have felt like a trap; with almost anyone else, she would have refused to try it, even clothed. But with Lucifer, it had been relaxing, safe—and, yes, arousing. The way he had looked at her... With each pass of the rope, each knot, they had become a little more unraveled. 

Deep down, she knew he'd been holding back, that for a while now they'd been pretending to be a Normal Couple, where he was just another man, and she was just another clueless woman. She was having the best sex of her life, but she knew there was more to the Devil than long oral sessions, missionary, a few creative positions, and pink, fuzzy cuffs. 

Chloe was afraid of herself sometimes, but she was not afraid of the Devil. 

That night, she didn't dream of frightened, young faces in a basement, or of the frozen stares of corpses. She dreamed of standing naked in an old church, Lucifer's low laughter in her ear as he tied her hands behind her back. 

* * *

***

* * *

It was early evening when Chloe entered Lux. The nightclub wouldn't open for another hour, and her boot heels echoed softly as she walked through the quiet emptiness. A lone tattooed bartender heard her approach and looked up from where he was cleaning a table with a rag. He smiled, which made him even more attractive than he already was. Not for the first time, she wondered just how many of Lux's staff had slept with the boss before she yanked him (willingly) into monogamy. Lucifer would tell her if she asked. She couldn't decide if she wanted to know. 

"Hey, Detective. Mr. Morningstar is back in the office." He nodded his chin to one corner of the nightclub, where a strategically placed black curtain obscured a door to the storage rooms, which themselves obscured doors to underground Prohibition tunnels she'd yet to traverse. Partly out of fear of what she might find in them. It wasn't like you could arrest the Devil for bad behavior. Also, she loved him.

"Thanks, Jeremy." 

She avoided eye contact as she passed and had the distinct feeling that she was getting away with something. As if Jeremy might somehow know, just by looking at her, what the papers in her hand revealed about her sex life.

Slipping into the back of the club and down its long, industrial-grey hallway, she passed kegs, stacked chairs, crates of liquor, and boxes of seasonal decorations. Lux's magic fractured and vanished on its administrative side, where it looked like any other business, and it was as amusing to her now as it was the first time she discovered it. With Lucifer, you never knew just how far his impracticality would extend. Here, it went as far as the dance floor. 

When she reached the end of the hallway, she turned to a door on the left, which was left partly ajar. She rapped her knuckles twice against the door frame and was a little surprised when the door swung open onto Lucifer's bright smile. Her stomach gave a small flip at the sight of him. He was dressed in glen checked navy today, no vest. No hair nor thread was out of place, and if she pulled him outside to the street right now, she knew he'd be the best looking man for miles. It was a huge ego boost to call him hers.

"Hello, love. Welcome to where the sausage gets made." He waggled his brows and held out a hand toward a foldout chair that was set on this side of a plain, wooden desk. 

"We're not going upstairs?"

"Not just yet," he answered, rounding the desk and settling into a leather office chair which squeaked beneath his weight. An out-of-place Tiffany floor lamp that was wedged into the corner cast a soft yellow glow onto his face.

On the desk, a spiral-bound accounting book lay open—was opened, in fact, to an honest to God, old-school accounts receivable sheet. Chloe squinted at it, curious, before sitting on the chair across from him and looking around. She'd known there was an office back here, but she'd never been in it before. It was just a typical storage room with shelving units and a little extra space—more closet than anything. Not exactly the sort of place she was used to seeing Lucifer hang out in by choice. With _paperwork_ , no less. 

"You actually do work here?" 

"Sometimes," he said, looking around the humble space with a grimace. "When Mazikeen quit, I had to take over the books. I usually pop up to the penthouse with them, but, well, not today."

"I would have thought you'd have hired someone else to handle Lux's books."

"I _could_ have," he said slowly, and she could tell by the look on his face that he was gauging how she might react to some truth. 

She narrowed her eyes. "But..." 

" _But_ ," he sighed, "for some things, I only trust myself or Maze. And honestly most good accountants wouldn't be willing to touch this work."

"I _knew_ it!" Chloe crowed, and Lucifer drew up in amused surprise. "Dan and I _always knew_ you weren't on the up and up, but we could never prove it. You operate at a loss!"

"I'll have you know I fleece _no one_ ," he insisted and seemed genuinely offended she would think otherwise. "But I certainly move funds around in a way that your current little government dislikes."

"I wouldn't call the state of California's government _little_." Not to mention America's as a whole. 

"Pharaohs thought they'd be around forever, too."

She blinked. "Okay. Point taken. But why do you need to move money?"

"Well, favors don't grant themselves, do they?" he said with a wolfish grin. "And I grant some very large favors, indeed. Most of my money isn't liquid, but Lux's is. Sometimes keeps me from having to deal with jewels and bullion and real estate. Inconvenient things."

"Jewels and bullion," she said dully. "Sure."

That all sounded criminal, but she also believed him when he said he wasn't cheating anyone. She wasn't sure what it meant that she was so often willing to turn a blind eye on his shady deals, but... 

"You still grant favors."

Dark eyes held hers. "It's who I am, Chloe." 

But why? She wondered, even as she let it go for now. It was just another mystery to solve, and there was no solving Lucifer Morningstar any time soon. He'd only been home for five months, and they'd only been dating for four. There was still so much for them to learn, accept, or tolerate about each other, but she had a strange sort of faith that it was worth the trouble.

"Okay," she said.

His smile was immediate and relieved. "Well. Enough about that boring nonsense." Scooping up one flap of the accounting notebook, he slapped it closed and shoved it aside. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his own set of folded papers before leaning his elbows onto the desk. He tapped the edge of the papers against the wood. "Am I to believe you've finished your homework, Detective?" His eyes crinkled at their corners.

"I have," she said, and looked down at the papers she was still clutching. She dried a sweaty palm on her jeans and switched her hold on the checklist. "I guess you finished yours, too?"

"I did." His brow furrowed briefly. "Turned out to be much more difficult than I had anticipated."

That was a relief to hear. 

"Yeah, same." She was finding it very hard to look at him, though she was determined to do it. All that excitement she'd felt about surprising him with the details of her not-so-torrid, but not-quite-vanilla sexual experience had disappeared. "Do we just... Do we exchange checklists or...?"

"We can, or we can go through each item together." He tilted his head as he looked at her. "You know I won't judge you, right? I mean, if it's vaguely phallic and remotely clean, I've put it in a hole, mine or someone else's." Laughter erupted out of her, and he grinned widely. "I've applied all manner of foods, materials, and tools to sex; caused pain and taken a beating myself—although, with you that might be quite different. Point being, you should know by now that I'll say or do nearly anything in the name of pleasure, _especially_ yours."

"I know. It's just...a lot."

His grin softened into a close-lipped smile. "I'm learning, too, you know. At least when it comes to this."

"You are?"

Lucifer shrugged a shoulder. "I've never had to go about things this way, as you know. I don't want you to leg it because _I've_ got certain interests." He frowned at his papers before glancing about the store room. "That's why I waited for you here."

"Neutral territory," she murmured, understanding.

"Yes, although we _are_ still in my building. Perhaps we should have met elsewhere." His jaw tightened with concern. "Would you prefer that? I could make a few calls and—"

"Here's fine," she said, and suddenly felt calm. Giving him a small smile, she leaned forward and put her folded checklist in front of him on the desk. 

Lips quirking, Lucifer looked down at her papers before stretching out his arm and offering his. Chloe took hold of them, leaned back in her chair, and unfolded the checklist without delay. She held back a pleased smile at the mess within.

"I, uh, had to edit," Lucifer said. "Frequently."

"I see that." 

It almost looked as if he had given everything a "3" in terms of interest, which meant he was interested if she was or willing for her, but many of those 3's had been scratched out and replaced with lower or, more often, higher ratings. All in all, there were many things he claimed he'd enjoy having done to him, and even more he'd enjoy doing to her. She was surprised to see he had several hard limits himself, and wondered if that was in general or with her specifically. The experience column, for its part, was moot: a single line drawn from the top to the bottom of each page through the word "Expert." Of course.

"Darling..."

Chloe looked up. She'd been so busy peering into what made him tick that she'd failed to notice he had begun to look at her checklist, as well. "What is it?" she asked, worried.

"I—" His mouth worked opened and closed several times. "You're bloody _naughty_ ," Lucifer breathed, resting a hand over his heart. "I had no idea. I had _hoped_. I had _dreamed_."

"Okay, well." She squirmed in her seat. The room was very hot. "Maybe I didn't know, either, until I started thinking about it." And maybe she was never able to be this way with someone else. Not even in her marriage. Which was just one of a hundred signs she and Dan hadn't been right for each other.

Lucifer's eyes flicked back and forth between the list and her face. "But just look at how _unsatisfied_ you are," he lamented, more disturbed by her lack of experience than when they saw dead people at a crime scene. "In another time, you'd be diagnosed with hysteria." Dropping her checklist to the desk, he leaned forward and put his chin in his hand. "Can I be your doctor?" he purred before glancing at the papers. " _Ooh_ , right, roleplay is iffy. I'll just be your usual bedroom Devil."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "I'm not unsatisfied, Lucifer."

"Well, not _lately_ , I'm sure—yesterday notwithstanding, of course." Eyes glimmering, he chuckled at her disgruntled scowl and let the hand holding his chin fall to the desk with a small thwack. "But what on earth have you been _doing_ with your life? There's a lot here that you want that you've never had."

"That doesn't mean I've been unhappy," she protested, even as she wondered if that was true.

"If you say so." With a shrug, he took her checklist and kicked up his shoes on the desk. The red soles were scuffed, and he'd no doubt replace them within a week. "No matter. I can certainly work with this." He pouted suddenly. "Oh, but no asphyxiation? That's too bad." 

"Hard limit." She found the related items on his list. "And I'm not choking you, _either_." Though sometimes he probably deserved it for entirely nonsexual reasons. 

"But, darling, I erupt like Krakatoa whe—" 

"Not happening." 

He sighed. "Very well." And then he was silent for a moment, focused in that way he got whenever desires surfaced. Like a raptor sighting prey. "You are going to be a _very_ fun sub for me." 

A pleasant shiver skittered down Chloe's back. "You think?"

"I know." 

Strangely pleased but uncertain what to say to that, she returned to skimming his small, scribbled notes in the margins of his checklist when her brows raised high. "You want to call me Detective during?"

"Oh, that."

She looked up at him. "Yeah, that. _Really_?"

Since they had begun dating, he'd stopped calling her "Detective" all the time. She was Detective at work and when she was especially canny. She was darling or sweet or Chloe outside of that. 

"I think it'd help set the scene. Also, this may be a fantasy I pray you will indulge." The problem was she had that fantasy, too, but didn't want to admit it. "Afraid you might develop a Pavlovian response on the job?" he joked.

Yes. "No." She sat up straighter. "I'm fine with it."

"Excellent." 

"Should I call you anything different?" She held up a finger. "I'm not calling you Master."

"I believe honorifics are best when earned if they're not part of a specific fantasy, in which case you may call me whatever pleases you during a scene," he said. "You may find you see me differently and wish to use another name, however. _Sir_ is an old standby, of course, and _Mr. Scratch_ is good fun." He sniffed. "Personally, I'm rather fond of _King_ and _Lord_."

"I bet," she said dryly, then frowned as she considered his words. "Do you really think I'll see you that differently?" 

"Perhaps. I defer to you quite a lot on the job, don't I?" he chuckled. "And I _like_ to, make no mistake. But generally, I'm not so cooperative. I expect cooperation and reward it."

Chloe refrained from mentioning he wasn't exactly cooperative with her, anyway. Their past was complicated; she couldn't tell which cases he had made more difficult for reasons beyond her understanding, and they hadn't yet sat down to discuss it. But even now that she was in the know, he was both the hardest person she'd ever worked with and the best partner she'd ever had. She'd had to rewrite an entire police report just this month because he'd drawn a stick figure with a massive, ejaculating dick on the back of the first one, having mistaken the paper for a blank canvas. Once she'd gotten over the initial annoyance, it had taken everything in her not to encourage him by laughing at it.

"So I should just call you what feels right?" she asked.

"That's the idea. We can formalize whatever we like later. Just...hard no on _Daddy_." 

"Um, I don't want to call you that."

"Thank, well, Dad, I suppose." He shuddered. " _Now_ , let's talk safe words..."

As they negotiated the details of this budding aspect of their sexual relationship, Chloe was reminded of meetings she suffered when she was a young actress working with lawyers to get herself a good deal. By the time they reached the end of their checklists and had discussed everything from clothing to punishments and wax play, she was exhausted, horny, thirsty, and beginning to wonder why she'd agreed to this. Lux had opened for the night, and music filtered into the office from the dance floor.

Lucifer folded her papers and set them aside. "You look like you could use a bit of fun."

"I'm pretty tired," she admitted.

"Navigating pleasure isn't always easy," he said, opening a desk drawer, "but I find it's often worth the effort." He withdrew a small, black pouch and slid it across the table. "Now, I could make you wait until I tie you up tomorrow, but...this is for you."

Chloe narrowed her eyes. Jewelry could be within, but considering the reason they were here... "That looks like it holds a vibrator."

His mouth twitched. "Clever Detective."

"I thought..." She frowned, disappointed by the thought of returning home and masturbating after all this. "I mean, I have things I could do tonight if you're busy with Lux or whatever, but I thought..."

"You thought _I_ was going to make you come?" Lucifer said bluntly. He licked his lower teeth, inspiring a dozen fantasies at once.

His checklist crinkled as she gripped it more tightly. "I guess so?"

The grin that lit up his face made her smile with him, if hesitantly. "Well, that's fortunate, because this little joytoy has a remote for me to use." He pulled out his phone, made a few swipes across its face, and turned it toward her. "It's very discreet," he said, and slid a finger up the touchscreen.

Chloe jumped when the pouch vibrated and shuffled slightly atop the desk. " _Oh_!" She gave an indelicate snort as she laughed.

Warm, rich laughter joined hers. "Ever tried one of these, Detective?"

"No," she said, and narrowly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, when would she have had the chance? She owned vibrators, including the new one he'd gotten for their fourth month together, but she had rarely used them with a partner before Lucifer. 

Slowly, she reached out and took the black pouch. The velvet was soft beneath her fingertips as she stretched open the drawstring. Inside was a pink, U-shaped vibrator no larger than her palm. An elongated egg-like head tapered off into a skinny, bendable piece that was clearly meant to remain outside the body.

"So, here's what I was thinking," Lucifer said. "You go upstairs, bury that treasure, and we spend the night playing in Lux."

Her mouth hung open. "What? _No_." She shook her head. "No way. Uh-uh."

"You have an exhibitionist streak," he sing-songed, while wagging a finger. "Don't try to deny it. I _know_ that now."

Fuck. That. Checklist.

"I said I was _willing to try_ some stuff in public!" Again. Because it wouldn't be the first time, would it?

"Well," Lucifer said, clapping his hands together, "there's no time like the present, is there?" 

"It didn't mean I want to get off in _Lux_." 

"Oh, no one will hear it," he scoffed. "It's very quiet when it's tucked away where it belongs, and, anyway, the music will be loud, as will the conversation. No one will be at all the wiser unless you start moaning on the dance floor. Hell, you'd even be in good company there. It's Saturday night."

Chloe looked down at the pouch, which she had let drop to her lap, atop Lucifer's checklist. She'd said she was willing to try. And something like this was _definitely_ a thing he wanted... She bit her lip. "Okay," she said. "Fine. I'll try it."

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice pitched high in a way that suggested he hadn't really believed she'd go for it, which, paradoxically, made her all the more determined to go through with it.

She shrugged and nodded. "I'll _try_ it. But if I want to stop—"

"You know your traffic lights," he said, referring to the color system that indicated comfort with a sexual activity someone else was controlling. "And you've my word I'll be good. Nothing too intense."

"Okay." She nodded, still overwhelmed by the last hour.

He stood and tugged his jacket back into neat, straight lines. Rounding the edge of the desk, he offered her a hand. She shifted the papers and pouch to one hand as he pulled her up by the other. He drew her close until she could feel the heat of his body. Bending, he kissed her more softly than she expected. 

"Thank you," he said, thumb rubbing across her knuckles.

"What for?"

"For trusting me." 

Chloe squeezed his fingers and smiled. Sensing the moment was slipping into uncomfortable territory for him, she joked, "Thanks for letting me come."

He laughed loudly. "Best get upstairs. I'll be waiting, Detective."

* * *

***

* * *

Somewhere between choosing from a daunting shelf of lube, inserting the vibrator, washing her hands, and looking at herself in the gigantic mirror above Lucifer's bathroom sinks, Chloe lost her gumption. She'd never quite been this person before—someone who took risks, not just for work (be it for an acting role or the LAPD), but for fun. Half the time she tried, it seemed like it turned into a complete disaster.

The answers she'd given on her checklist reflected who she thought she'd like to become. Not Lucinda, either. Just...a different Chloe Decker, one who didn't only think about work and parenthood and work, and more work, all while her life passed her by. Someone who didn't regret the risks she took.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket, and she snorted at how confusing _that_ was before pulling it free. She had a new text.

_**Lucifer:** Everything okay?_

_**Chloe:** Yep... It's in_

Awkward. 

_**Lucifer:** Coming down soon?_

A moment passed as she stared blankly at Lucifer's text, thinking about all the ways this could go wrong—and then it happened. The egg buzzed to life. Chloe yelped in surprise and lost hold of her phone; she fumbled, but managed to catch it in midair before it dropped to the floor. She breathed unevenly as she calmed down. The vibration was short and small, a mere zap that rumbled perfectly against her G-spot before quickly dissipating. It was shockingly quiet, even in the silence of the bathroom. She puffed a disbelieving laugh and looked at her flushed cheeks in the mirror. 

You can do this, she decided. No one will know.

Anyway, she was going to lose her damn mind if she didn't come tonight.

Lux was thumping like a pulse when she exited the elevator a few minutes later. Dozens had entered in the club since she'd left for the penthouse. They hung out in clusters, few yet brave or drunk enough to populate the dance floor.

She spotted Lucifer almost immediately where he sat at the bar, chatting with Jeremy. Chloe watched as Lucifer nodded along with the conversation, while removing his phone from his pocket. She grabbed hold of the curved staircase's railing as another vibration tore through her a second later. It lasted longer than the first, but was still fleeting and, if anything, left her wanting more—and with the urge to hightail it back upstairs. 

Two women passed her on the stairway in their tiny party dresses. She eyed them warily, so certain they, too, knew what was happening below her belt. But they neither heard nor saw anything out of the ordinary, and so paid her no attention whatsoever. They didn't even seem to notice how under-dressed she was for a nightclub in her grey jeans and black t-shirt. No wonder witness testimonies were so worthless sometimes.

Chloe wandered toward Lucifer. Mischief was written in the lines of his face as he turned away from Jeremy and dedicated his attention to her. 

"Nice crowd tonight," he commented, surveying his kingdom of sin. "Good vibes, don't you think?" And he tapped the face of his phone. 

She gripped the back of the bar stool beside his. "The best," she said tightly. 

Lucifer grinned at her predicament. "Care for a drink? You look like you could use one."

Their elbows touched while they drank bourbon and beer and spoke about nothing of consequence—little things about work and family. It would be entirely normal, if not for the fact that every so often Chloe found herself at the mercy of sensation. She pressed the cool, damp beer bottle against her cheek as the bass beat throbbed through the legs of the stool in one moment, and a vibration rippled between her legs in the next. For a short time, it was almost easy to ignore it, to stick her tongue out at her partner like she was unaffected. Her G-spot had never been _that_ sensitive. 

But this wasn't an isolated incident. It had been built upon for days. It had started on Thursday night, when Trixie's parent-teacher meeting had run long and kept them apart; he'd sent her all those dirty texts that had left her staring, open-mouthed, at her phone while she waited for Trixie to get ready for bed. And then there was yesterday, when he'd taken her to the very edge, only to leave her hanging; how he'd teased her over dinner about it. Even tonight had built upon the foundation of her hunger, as he had described in graphic detail some of the things he wanted to do to her and desired for her to do to him. 

"Feeling all right, Detective?" Lucifer asked casually. He set down his empty glass. Almost at once, a bartender swooped in and another glass, this one full, took its place.

"I'm okay," she said, and then bit her lip as his finger dragged across his phone.

She would not be okay for much longer, though, and felt at war with her own body, with the need to behave in public and the maddening desire to strip down and climb the man beside her. She crossed her legs. 

Lucifer slid from his bar stool. "Let's move to a booth, shall we?" 

Without much thought about it, she nodded. He guided her through the crowd, beneath a set of blaring speakers and away from a group of rowdy revelers. They stopped at a quieter, darker booth tucked into the back of the club, where three young women and two men were speaking to each other over the music. 

" _Hello_ ," Lucifer began, flashing white teeth. "This is my club you're in, and, well, I'd rather like to sit here, so drinks are on the house if you lot would kindly toddle off to the bar. Just speak to Jeremy or Riley." 

The group exchanged glances, shrugged, and agreed to scram. Chloe didn't blame them. The markup on drinks was astronomical, not that she'd ever paid for one. 

"Have a seat, Detective," Lucifer said, slipping out of his jacket. 

Chloe sank down to the booth, her body tingling with every move. She watched people on the dance floor and wondered, without completely caring, if any of them could tell what was happening, just by the expression on her face. At some point, even the bass-heavy music and roving lights had taken a backseat to the steady throbbing ache between her legs. She was desperate for relief and just as terrified of getting it. 

The booth dipped on her right as Lucifer scooted in beside her. She frowned as he draped his jacket over her lap. 

"Thanks, but I'm not cold."

"I'm aware," he laughed, and then she felt a hand cup her clothed sex beneath his jacket. 

Her hips jerked forward. "Oh, G—" 

"Finish that word, and I won't let you come," he warned against the shell of her ear. 

"Sorry."

He kissed her temple. "Are you close?" A matter-of-fact question from her hawk-eyed companion.

She turned to look at him, and he pressed the heel of his palm against her, grinding the seam of her jeans and the wet cling of her underwear over her clit. She let out a breath and nodded shakily, thankful for the shelter of the booth and music. 

With his free hand, Lucifer slid his phone across the table in front of them. He turned it on and swiped his password; the vibrator app was open and waiting. Tantalizing. Anyone could walk by and see it, maybe some would even know what it was, but no one noticed them. Not really. Occasionally, eyes would flit their way, only to be drawn in by some other whim or by others who were less obviously paired.

Lucifer tapped two fingers against her jeans, while the index finger of his other hand hovered over the app's controller. Chloe watched his hand, rapt, feeling as though some key part of her life had been whittled down to this. She tensed as his finger dropped down, only to freeze a fraction of an inch above the touchscreen. She let out a plaintive groan that made him laugh.

Beneath his jacket, he ground his palm against her rhythmically. And it was almost enough...almost. But she couldn't move her hips. She couldn't do anything if she wanted to look normal.

_Did_ she look normal, tucked in this booth with the Devil himself driving her wild? She couldn't imagine she did, and yet she felt compelled to try to keep her O-face under wraps. There were just some things you didn't do in public. Or at least tried not to get caught doing. She'd never done this, but she'd done foolish things like it before, in evidence closets and cars. So far, she hadn't been caught.

"Do you want _more_?" Lucifer teased.

She cut her eyes up at him, instilling her gaze with all her frustration.

He chuckled. "Oh, darling, if you think this is difficult, just wait until I tie you up tomorrow." 

The words licked across her like fire a second before his finger landed on the face of his phone and slid upward to increase the intensity of the vibration. It was like diving into a pool where the water was colder than expected—the sensation sharp, intense, and all encompassing.

" _Shit_ ," Chloe wheezed, grabbing hold of the table and ducking her head as everything seized up. Her thighs clamped the hand between her legs as her muscles contracted around the toy, over and over. The rocking beat in Lux buzzed out until it was nothing but a very high-pitched hum. She couldn't tell if she wanted to curse or cry out wordlessly, so she bit her lip and let it pass.

Lucifer flipped his phone over. Between her legs, his hand angled sideways and squeezed the inside of her right thigh. His other gently pulled hers away from the table while he pressed kisses to the side of her head, his breath shifting her hair. Relaxing, she sank against him and sighed. The noise of the club had returned, and yet everything felt quiet around them, or at least within herself.

"What about you?" she asked when some sense had returned. Beneath the table, the swell of his erection was obvious.

"Rest assured, I will have my fun tomorrow," he answered, voice rough with desire. 

He enjoyed teasing himself almost as much as he enjoyed teasing her, but she still angled her head on his shoulder to look up at him skeptically. "Not tonight?" 

"Tonight, you're going to go home again," he said, and a hand lifted to cup her face. "You're going to sleep well and rise and eat a big breakfast, and then you're going to return to me at eleven o'clock."

His bossy tone grated almost as much as it made her feel strangely cared for. She teased him, "And what if I show up late?"

She wouldn't. She was never late for anything.

Lucifer's mouth quirked as he looked over the crowd. "Then I know how to punish you, don't I?"

They sat for a few more minutes, until Chloe couldn't delay cleaning up any longer. Together, they slipped past clubgoers and took the elevator to the penthouse, where she grabbed some of her clothes that had somehow made their way into his home. She ducked into the bathroom, while he went into the kitchen, and it felt right, comfortable even. Much like when she realized she was no longer afraid of his devilish side. Veils were torn away, and all that remained was who they truly were to one another. Imperfect, but full of desire and something small and wonderful that felt like hope.

A sandwich and chips were waiting on the coffee table when she came out of the bathroom. Lucifer looked over from where he was stretched out on the chaise, a soft smile gracing his lips. She ignored the sandwich, choosing instead to go to him and straddle his lap. 

"Why, hello," he purred. His thighs twitched beneath hers, and soon she felt the telltale stiffening of his cock between her legs. 

"Hey _yourself_ ," she said suggestively, and dragged her fingertips over the soft cotton covering his chest. The thought of pushing him, tempting him as he had once tempted Eve, simmered beneath the surface, but he wanted to wait until tomorrow, and she'd be good for him—for now, at least.

He sighed when she caressed the hollow of his throat. "You were bloody stunning tonight."

"I don't know about that," she laughed. 

"Well, you should. Your pleasure is always a sight to behold." He ran a finger down the front of her shirt, from the band of her bra, to the dip of her belly button. "Wonder what you'll show me when you're all tied up."

Chloe shivered beneath his gaze. She may have handed him some of her deepest, darkest secrets, but something told her the darkest secrets were those she didn't even recognize within herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's four chapters now. It wanted to be, and who am I to deny it? 
> 
> Thanks to [Arlome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/pseuds/Arlome) and [Obli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla)!


	4. I Have Put My Hope in Your Word

Chloe parked in the garage connected to Lux. The second basement level was Lucifer's private garage, and her Dodge Charger was a misfit among fancier cars, from the Corvette he preferred and the red Aston Martin he'd brought on a case that had nearly killed him, to a sleek midnight blue Maserati and two black Mercedes-Benz SUVs. There was even a motorcycle, which she'd never seen him ride.

She cut the engine and sat still, trying to soothe the butterflies in her stomach while she listened to the metallic ticking of the car as it cooled. She should have slept more, but no matter how long she was a detective, every case felt personal, maybe especially the more horrific ones, and she'd woken early from another nightmare she wished she could forget. 

That had given her four and a half hours to stress over body hair, makeup, and clothes, but still the nightmare clung. Now she stared at freshly-shaven legs where they peeked out beneath the pale blue sundress she'd chosen at the last minute. What did you wear for the Devil to have his way with you? 

Laughing at the absurdity that was her life, she got out of the car.

Her heart pounded in double time as the elevator glided up to the penthouse. The door slid open, and she stepped inside the apartment, only to stumble to a halt and stare, open-mouthed and saucer-eyed.

Thin, black curtains shielded the sliding glass wall panels that led to the balcony, painting the penthouse in more shadows than usual for the hour. The balcony remained open, and the dark gossamer billowed and swayed with a breeze—noticeably so, given that the living room had been completely upended. 

Lucifer's piano, golden lounge suite, and glass tables were nowhere to be seen. In their place, an ornate, antique chair, its black wood polished to shine, had been arranged near the center of the room, atop a Persian rug with bold mahogany and navy coloring. Gargoyle heads sat at the ends of the chair arms, their toothy maws yawning wide, and claw feet curved at the ends of the legs. The penthouse's many fireplaces crackled with flame, sending light dancing along magnificent etchings in the wood. 

A short distance from the Gothic armchair, a simple foldout table stood. It was laden with a tray of fruits and jars, neat pyramids of wine red rope bundles, stacks of black towels, and a daunting amount of sexual paraphernalia—everything from bottles of lube, to colorful vibrators, and, at the back, a standing army of suction cup dildos in half a dozen shapes, sizes, and colors. Beneath the table, a large woven basket exploded with cushions and fuzzy blankets. Lucifer had thought of everything.

Movement caught her eye, and she looked up at a space in front of and above the chair. A subtle black ceiling beam she'd never before noticed was encircled by a thick layer of Lucifer's wine red ropes. Thick arms of the rope hung down like trailing vines and were tied to a steel hoop the size of a dinner plate, turned slightly as the air shifted. Her imagination ran wild as she goggled. She had looked up pictures of rope bondage online and knew such rings were used for lifting limbs, or the whole body, into the air. He'd said he wouldn't fully suspend her this time, but partial suspension was on the table...

What the hell had she gotten herself into?

" _Hello_ , Detective."

Chloe spun on her heel in time to see Lucifer slip from the shadows of his library. He was dressed in shades of black, his fingers working at a cufflink. Setting the mood in every way, as only Lucifer Morningstar could. On some level, she found him dramatic and hilarious, but the chills that tingled down her spine didn't induce laughter, only a frisson of anticipation. 

"Hi..." She looked at the living area. "You've, uh, redecorated? In the last twelve hours?"

She felt more than saw amusement spark in him. "I have indeed."

"And the sofa's gone?"

"Well, we wouldn't want it to get in the way, would we?"

A tickle hit the back of Chloe's throat that she feared would become a fit of giggle-snorts if she let it break free. " _Really_?"

"Potentially," he said.

"Oh, you mean that." Her giggling was reduced to a small, nervous laugh. "Okay."

As he neared, there was an energy about him that made her turn, like she was a magnet and he was steel. His mojo might not work on her, but she wasn't unaffected by the presence of the Devil—and she had no doubt that was who was with her today. As she looked up at him, she imagined his face crimson and blemished by scars. She no longer wished or willed for that part of him to disappear. If anything, she felt a sense of pride over his stubborn survival, and it was hard to remember how or why any of it had ever frightened her. 

"You look lovely," he said, and ran a hand down the middle of her back to the curve of her rear. 

"Thanks." She expected him to squeeze her or slip beneath her dress, but he withdrew chastely.

"Are you comfortable to begin?" he asked, and she saw his thumb work at his ring before settling. "You can decline, of course, and nothing will happen. You can decline at any time."

Chloe swallowed and looked over the transformed room before nodding jerkily. "I'm ready." 

"Well, then." Grinning, Lucifer held out a hand, palm open and expectant. "I'll be needing your mobile." 

"Oh. Uh..." Chloe dug into the small clutch she'd brought and pulled out her phone. She hesitated before giving it to him. "The sound's on, in case Trixie or Dan calls."

He nodded. "So long as it's not _work_ , Detective." 

"Right." She chewed on the inside of her cheek, stricken by guilt. As a detective, she got weekends off, but the occasional shift change wasn't unusual, nor was the need to work overtime. Images from her nightmare resurfaced. "Should probably still answer if it is, though?" she suggested. "It could be important."

Lucifer snorted. "Trust me when I say you'll be far too tied up with things here to help anyone." 

His words sank somewhere low in her body.

Taking the phone, he wandered to his bar and set it on the counter. The ambient light that glowed behind his shelf of liquor caught the smirk on his mouth as he rounded the bar and ducked behind it. She heard the snick of the mini fridge opening and closing. 

"You're already rather flustered, aren't you?" he teased, resurfacing with two glass bottles of water.

Yes. "I'm okay." 

"In that case..." He set one of the bottles on the counter with a clunk and slid it close to the edge for her. "Drink this, and then you can take your clothes off."

A blush surged up her chest. "What?" she laughed. "Just like that?" 

Lucifer twisted the cap on his bottle. "I don't believe I stuttered."

"No... Just..." She gaped at him drinking _water_. "Usually there's a little more lead-up?" 

Okay, not always. They'd done their share of tearing each other's clothes off after work, especially in their first two months together. But she'd expected him to ease her into things here.

"Today, there's whatever I say there is, Detective, but," he said, cutting her a wry glance, "I don't believe I've ever steered you wrong on foreplay, and I don't plan to start. I am all about long journeys with happy endings, as you well know." He leaned against the counter, sipping. "Drink your water. Wouldn't want you to dehydrate."

Edging closer to the bar, she put down her clutch, picked up the bottle, and opened it. She hated bottled water as a concept, but even she had to admit water from the cool, pristine wilds of Iceland tasted better than tap. God, he was going to make her a snob about everything.

They watched each other as they drank, the room crackling with possibility. Last night had been fun—far more fun than she expected it would be—but it had been days since he'd been inside her. He would give her that today, she thought, and something told her he would not be gentle. She didn't want him to be.

When she was halfway through the bottle, she set it aside. "You know I can't drink all this, right?"

Lucifer shrugged and set his bottle down, as well. "Then I suppose you can strip now, can't you?"

Taking a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart, she nodded and backed away from the counter, where she toed off her flats and tugged her sundress at its middle to pull it up and over her head. She draped the soft dress over the back of a bar stool and stood before Lucifer in nothing but lilac lace. His eyes trailed down her body and lingered on her legs.

"All of it?" she asked, unable to mask the teasing note in her voice.

"That's a bloody _exquisite_ color, I'll give you that," Lucifer huffed, "but yes. All of it."

It wasn't the answer she'd expected, but she went along with it, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra, which she let slide down her arms before joining it with her sundress. Finally, she kept her eyes on Lucifer's as she wiggled out of her bikini and settled it with the rest of her clothes.

Standing still, she resisted the urge to cover herself. It wasn't cold, and she wasn't shy, but there was something very _exposed_ about being the only naked person in a room that was charged with sexual tension. Which was probably the point. Lifting her chin, she forced herself to look him in the eye, which only served to turn his grin feral. 

"See?" Lucifer said, stalking closer and resting knuckles at the top of her pubic mound. "This is much better." He skated his fingers upward, over the already heaving muscles of her stomach and the curves of her breasts, where he paused to pinch her nipples before continuing his ascent. She breathed a sigh and leaned into his touch.

He took hold of her bare shoulders and with gentle pushing, turned her and walked her backwards, deeper into the room. When they landed on the Persian rug, her toes sank into the thick weave. He drew them to a stop, stuffed a hand into a pocket, and resurfaced with the remote to his sound system. With a press of the button, dark, sensuous beats thrummed from his speakers. The music was just loud enough that she felt its smooth bass rumble through her feet and bones as it drowned out the soft noise of traffic that had been drifting up from Sunset Boulevard.

With another small smile, Lucifer left her for the overloaded table. She turned her head, following his movement, curiosity making her forget her nakedness. 

"What do you say if you're comfortable with the direction the scene is going in and want more of what's happening?" Lucifer asked, picking up a bundle of rope.

Nerves swept through her stomach. She was really doing this, wasn't she? "Uh, green."

He walked back, coming up behind her. Chloe began to turn, but a hand on her waist stopped her. "Don't mind me," Lucifer chuckled, his touch disappearing once she was facing the bar again. A moment later, she heard rope fall free and pat against the rug. "What if you need to let me know our play is becoming intense and I should ease up?" he prompted, and wine red cords crossed her line of vision as he brought them over her front.

"Yellow," she whispered.

"Speak up, Detective."

" _Yellow_ ," she repeated more loudly.

The jute tightened around her middle, a line of it snaking up her back as he drew excess rope through a loop. It was an entirely different sensation, having the rope on bare skin. It wasn't as soft to her ribs as it had been to her hands, she realized, but it wasn't uncomfortable, either, only very textured. 

"What if our play is too intense, and you need to pause and talk to me?"

"Red," she said, and a band of rope crossed her shoulder. He leaned closer, heat rolling off him as he looked down her bare chest and looped the rope with the horizontal band that was already in place. 

"Most importantly, what's the safe word we decided on if you want to stop everything?"

Chloe couldn't help rolling her eyes and laughing. " _Inferno_."

"Yes, _Inferno_ ," he laughed with her. "Nothing gets me to stop harder than Dante."

She was quiet as Lucifer worked, the pentagram harness returning to her body in layered increments. The fibers of the rope hissed and gave a frictional vibration as the strands crossed each other swiftly. Knots thickened between her shoulder blades, and she shivered once, which seemed to set the muscles that ran up and down her limbs into ceaseless twitching.

"I don't know why I'm trembling," she confessed. It clashed strangely with the desire that was growing between her hips.

"It's all those delicious nerves," Lucifer purred, and an arm curved around her waist, yanking her back slightly. She leaned on him, her mouth tilting into a smile when his clothed erection pressed against her lower back. He spoke close to her temple, "It's knowing I could do anything to you." 

That wasn't true—or, at least, it was one of Lucifer's not-whole-truths. He wouldn't cause her pain unless she asked for it. He would honor their safe word. But it _felt_ true, and Chloe let out a shaky breath as a cold sliver of fear or excitement—it was hard to tell which—crept through her blood. With a rough kiss to her cheek, Lucifer put space between them once more and continued his work. 

"How's that?" he asked a short time later, when the pentagram was complete. He grasped her sides, the pads of his fingertips sliding along the sensitive edge just inside the frame of her hipbones. 

Chloe shuddered and twisted in the binding, noting how it bit pleasurably into her skin. "Tight."

"Oh, just the way I like it, then," he joked. "But seriously, is it too tight?" He slipped a finger between one line of rope and her skin, testing it. "Your breathing is okay?"

"I'm okay," she said.

"You're certain?"

"I'm having fun," she assured him, and was a little surprised by how true that was. She had almost convinced herself this was something she was doing for _him_.

"Well, that's good, but really, I'm just getting started with you, Detective." His fingers squeezed her briefly before letting go. "Now, about those pesky hands..." he murmured, as if thinking aloud to himself.

She looked over her shoulder, watching as he returned to his table of goods. When he came back, another rope bundle loosened and tapped against the floor. He grabbed hold of her wrists and wrenched her arms back, making her gasp. "I'll be a nice Devil, shall I?" he said, keeping her hands low. "No box ties or extensive arm bindings today."

Rope swiftly spun round her wrists. Her nerves calmed, and a brief spark of rebelliousness appeared in their wake. Chloe wriggled her left wrist with a small laugh, trying to interrupt his flow.

"Oh, it's that way, is it?" Lucifer snorted, snatching hold of her hand. "You know, I can always _make_ you behave, Detective."

Her heart hammered. "Maybe I want you to."

Suddenly one of his hands gathered and clutched her hair. With a tug, he pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him. She grinned up at him, unrepentant. "You want to come today, don't you?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"Yes," she admitted. 

"Then I suggest you let me focus." 

Lucifer let go of her hair, and she took his threat seriously enough that she settled, though the grin on her face faded slowly. 

Row after row of rope wrapped around her wrists and halfway up her forearms, twisting in what felt like a combination of figure eights and more elaborate weaves. He finished his work by uniting the rope binding her wrists to the central knots of the pentagram. When he was done, she was well and truly restrained. Shifting her wrists or arms too far to the left or right also pulled the harness at her chest. 

It should have been terrifying, this level of bondage and the trust it required, but she found it soothing, instead. 

"Give your fingers a wriggle," Lucifer said. "Any tingling or loss of sensation?" 

She shook her head. "No." 

"Lovely. Let me know if that changes."

He left her again, and Chloe stood still with the fibrous embrace of the ropes. Her mind drifted, and she imagined all the things he might do to her.

"Detective?"

"Hmm?" 

Lucifer chuckled. "Detective, turn around."

"Oh." She shifted, and the ropes rasped with the movement.

Standing behind the black, Gothic armchair, Lucifer leaned against the carved whorls of the chair's short back. "Come sit," he instructed, pointing a finger down at the cushionless seat. The smile on his face promised pleasure and excited her more than she wanted to admit.

Licking her lips, Chloe went to him and sat awkwardly, angling her bound wrists, which tightened the pentagram about her shoulders. The wood was hard and cool and dark beneath her light, bare flesh, but the sensation was more welcome than not in the warm room. 

After guiding her to scoot back until her elbows were flush with the wood, Lucifer combed his fingers along the base of her neck and into her hair. She closed her eyes and soon felt the pleasurable rhythm of her hair being parted and braided. 

"How are we, Detective?" Lucifer asked, weaving hair as he'd woven the ropes. 

"I'm good," she sighed. Somewhere between aroused and deeply relaxed, and in a way she wasn't used to experiencing at the same time.

Once he was finished braiding her hair, Lucifer pressed a soft kiss to her neck and returned to the foldout table. Chloe dug her toes into the plush rug and watched as he removed his suit jacket, laid it aside, and rolled his black sleeves up to his elbows. His movements were calm and deliberate, almost in sync with the beats of the music—and a small torture as she sat alone in the antique chair, aching to touch and be touched.

He retrieved several bundles of rope, and her stomach flipped at the sight of them. Coming to stand before her, he dropped all but one of the bundles to the right of the chair. 

"Where else shall I bind you?" he asked, smacking the bundle against his opposite palm. The question, or maybe the action, affected him, and his erection twitched beneath the confines of his suit pants. 

Chloe forced herself to focus on his face. "I don't know."

" _Don't know_ , Detective?" Resting a hand on one of the chair arms, Lucifer leaned forward and touched a curved end of the rope bundle to her bottom lip. "Or won't say?" She breathed in the earthy scent of whatever it was he used to condition the ropes. She exhaled as he ran the jute down her chin and neck, finally pausing to hold the rounded edge against the hollow of her throat. "Go on, tell me."

"I..." 

She reminded herself, over and over, that his mojo didn't work on her, but it felt like a lie when she had already given him so many of her secrets.

He let the rope bundle bump along the crisp, crimson lines of the pentagram, down to her breasts, which he patted with the cord until her nipples stood at attention. "Where do you desire my ropes?" he asked again, alternating his taps with each word.

Dark fantasies and memories roiled within her—of horns and red eyes and a king forcing demons to kneel. He liked power and control, he'd told her, and she desired to feel the depths of his. Words spilled from her lips. "Anywhere you want them." 

His mouth twitched. "Oh, I like that answer very much, Detective, but what a very complicated request." He dragged the rope down the middle of her stomach, into the ticklish dip of her belly button, and lower. "You see," he continued, "I am positively _bedeviled_ by desire when it comes to you. What part of you _don't_ I want to tie up?" He tapped the bundle at the apex of her thighs, and Chloe's thighs parted. "What part of you _don't_ I want to play with?"

Tapping just above where she wanted the sensation, he studied her for a long moment and in a way that made her feel more naked than she already was. With a glint in his eye, he dropped down onto his heels before the chair. Breath left her in a loud rush as warm fingers clamped around her left ankle and pulled her foot toward the nearest chair leg. Rope made a soft shushing sound as it passed his fingers; it bit into her flesh as he wrapped it round and round, securing her in place. Gripping her other knee, he pushed her legs apart and began working on her other ankle. 

The slow attention to detail was maddening, and Chloe squirmed, hopelessly seeking relief for the incessant throbbing between her legs. Each movement was a tug on one length of rope or another, which only seemed to increase her desire. She hadn't expected to be this turned on, this fast. He hadn't even _touched_ her, for crying out loud. 

"Patience, Detective," Lucifer chuckled, placing a steadying hand on one her hips. "Rope was not built in a day." 

Rolling her eyes, Chloe looked up at the ceiling, hoping to distract herself. Instead, she was greeted by the faint reflection of her own nakedness and the Devil between her legs. His hands darted left and right, over and under, as he bound her. With a thoughtful hum, he moved to tying her knees to the arms of the chair, leaving her spread wide. When he was satisfied with his work, he slid his hands up the inside of her thighs. She jolted at the contact.

"Bit sensitive, aren't you?" Lucifer said with a patronizing pout.

Chloe scowled briefly, but couldn't hold her ire as his thumbs swept over her folds.

He snickered at her change in tune, while gliding fingers just to the left or right, top or bottom, of everywhere she _actually_ wanted him. "Dearie me, I believe you're going to make my chair wet, Detective."

A blush crept up her chest. "Sorry?"

"You must know I'm not complaining. It's bloody hot," he assured her. "Anyway, trust me, the friar who owned this lovely bit of craftsmanship back in the day would have been thrilled." He shook his head and stared into the distance, two fingers still pressed to her labia. "Gosh, what a pervert Friar Fuck was. Taught the Devil a thing or two." 

Chloe blinked. "What?"

But then Lucifer surged up and kissed her, and she couldn't give a damn what this chair had seen. Making out with the Devil was like getting carried into the slow build of a thunderstorm. One moment he kissed her neck or pulled her hair or curled his tongue with hers or squeezed her flesh or cupped her sex, or often some combination of all. Being tied up and unable to bring her own hands into play only served to intensify the sensation that he was everywhere at once. That _he_ was the thunderstorm, and she was just hanging on for dear life.

When she was all but a puddle beneath his ministrations, Lucifer gave a gentle slap to one of her thighs. "You know, I think I'll let you come," he announced cheerily.

"Oh, thank Go—" 

" _Again_ , best not to thank _Him_ ," he said sharply, and her mouth slammed shut so fast she nearly bit her tongue. 

"Sorry," she murmured.

One day she'd work his _dad_ out of her vocabulary. She really needed to. She looked down at her bound and spread legs. It wasn't like she wanted to think of _her_ dad when she— No. Just no.

At the foldout table, all was forgiven as he sorted through toys. Vibrators buzzed as he picked them up and considered them. "What color are we, Detective?"

Jesus. Whoever. More religious figures to work out of her vocab. What color did he _think_ she was? " _Green_."

"Good to know," he said smugly, spinning on a heel and wagging a black wand vibrator and a smaller bundle of rope. 

He knelt before her again and pressed the round, bulbous head of the wand between her legs. She twitched at the pressure on her clit, wanting more, wanting less, just _wanting_. Rather than turning it on, however, he held it in place and, using the shorter rope, tied it to her left thigh.

Chloe stared at the positioned wand, anticipating the moment he would turn it on. 

But then Lucifer stood, and his belt buckle clinked. The sound was loud over the music, or at least Chloe noticed it more acutely. She watched as he unbuttoned his pants and stepped to the edge of the chair, shimmying so his legs framed hers. Belt and fly open, his cock pressed hard and heavy at the edge of the fabric of his trousers and dress shirt. She licked her lips, her eyes flicking up to his. Did he know she would do almost anything he asked right now? And what if he _did_ know?

"Fancy a little quid pro quo, Detective?" His fingers lifted to the buttons of his shirt. "Make me come, and I'll let you come. Deal?"

He liked games in the bedroom, and she was learning she did, too. Especially when the rewards were so sweet. 

"Deal," she exhaled, feeling fire in her veins.

"I'd ask you to shake on it, but, well." Grinning, he slid his shirt away from his body and cast it aside without a thought. Without further ado, he bent and turned on the vibrator at her thigh. 

Chloe yelped and jerked forward as it whirred to life, almost brutally intense. " _Fuck_ ," she gasped, trying to pull her legs together, only to strain against ropes. 

"Well?" Lucifer prompted with a small laugh, holding his cock toward her, waiting.

She leaned forward at once, ropes tightening against her flesh as she ran her tongue up his length. He shuddered as she took him between her lips and sucked until her jaw protested. Tied up and merely mortal, she still felt powerful knowing she could make him tremble, too. Between her legs, the vibrator hummed mercilessly, and her hips rolled as she took more of him into her mouth, to the very back of her throat. Where she'd told him on paper she wanted him, one day. 

Muttering a curse, Lucifer leaned forward and grabbed the back of the chair with one hand and one of her breasts with the other. His trousers slipped farther down his thighs as he made shallow thrusts and pinched her nipple just shy of too hard. Chloe keened around him, longing for the use of her hands, whether to touch him or herself, she didn't know. But the restraints were a pleasure of their own, a means of existing entirely in the present as they moved in tandem. 

Their breathing became sharp, their moans loud. When a faint, insistent fluttering took hold of her inner muscles, she pulled away from Lucifer and screwed her eyes shut, her hips gyrating. She needed... 

He was in motion almost immediately. Chloe cried out in protest when he jabbed a finger to the vibrator's power button. A bereft numbness spread through her at the sudden absence of sensation.

"Ah, ah, ah," Lucifer panted, wagging his finger. 

"But—"

"We had a deal, Detective. You come, _if I come_." She glared up at him, and he laughed. "Look, if you'd _prefer_ a bit of funishment, far be it from me to—"

He choked on his words as her mouth wrapped around him once more. It was difficult to please him as she wanted without the use of her hands, but she had learned a few things in their time together, and soon she had him. 

Hissing past his teeth, Lucifer's lower stomach jerked inward. With a long, low groan and his hand wrapped around her braid, he came across her tongue in uneven bursts. He pulled back slightly before he'd finished, spilling across her bottom lip and chin. She looked up into his dark, desire-clouded gaze and swallowed, her lower body writhing as best it could against her bindings.

"Well done, Detective," he puffed with a lopsided smile.

And then he was in motion again, loosening the knot that held the vibrator wand. 

Chloe's eyes widened. "Lucifer—"

"Trust me," he interrupted, rolling the wand to the other side of her thigh, where the ropes still held it in place. Before she could ask what was happening, he dropped his hand between her legs, and a long finger slid through her wetness to bury deep inside her.

" _Ooh_ ," she breathed, canting her hips as a second finger joined the first, curling expertly.

Watching her face, Lucifer drove his fingers in and out, pushing on her G-spot with each pass. Bending, he used his other hand to take hold of her braid and tilt her head back. His tongue swept a line up her chin and the corner of her bottom lip, cleaning himself from her face, before he pressed his mouth to hers. She opened to him, letting his tongue past her teeth. 

Everything came down to his kiss, to his hands, to his ropes, and when she broke, it was with a soft cry into his mouth, with muscles clamping his fingers and legs spasming ineffectually against jute.

Lucifer slipped his fingers from her several moments later, when the strongest of her contractions had subsided. He rubbed gentle circles over sensitive lips before standing straight and licking his fingers clean with a leer that twisted pleasurably at her insides.

He looked down at his sagging pants thoughtfully; he was already half erect again. "Wait here, will you?" he said, and barked a laugh at his own joke.

Snorting, Chloe rested back in the chair as best she could with her arms still pinned behind her. She watched dazedly, her breathing slowing, as Lucifer made yet another trip to the foldout table. This time, he kicked off his Oxfords, pulled free of his socks, and dropped his pants. She tilted her head, enjoying the X-rated view as he sorted through piles of rope. She liked watching him move about while naked—good thing, too, considering he could be a very "clothing optional" kind of person at home. Or in random places on the job. 

He fetched more rope and went to stand beneath the steel hoop hanging from the ceiling beam. "Tell the truth, Detective." He glanced at her. "How do you feel? Still have sensation in all your lovely fingers and toes?"

She considered the question while she wiggled her digits. "Good," she decided, "but my shoulders are getting tired." She scrunched her nose. "And I'm messy."

Lucifer grinned, eyes sweeping over her and spending several seconds focused between her legs. "Yes, you _are_ a rather hot mess right now, aren't you? Part of the fun, if you ask me." 

He slipped one loop through another. Stretching up like an Olympian, he threaded the cord through the ring. He did this for a while, threading and tying knots, jerking on the rope each time. It might have been relaxing to watch, if not for the comical bobbing of his erection, which made her snicker and then made him laugh with her. Once he was pleased with the ropes that trailed down to the floor, he returned to the armchair. 

"Lean forward," he said, taking hold of one of her shoulders and pulling her into a deep bend.

Chloe felt his fingers at her back, and soon the rope around her forearms and wrists began to loosen. A strange, relieved sensation rushed through her skin. She rolled her shoulders. "Are we stopping?" she asked, confused.

"Just making a few changes." Sitting her up, he pulled her arms in front of her and bound her wrists again, this time with a shorter length of rope that didn't climb up her forearms. He tied a knot between her wrists and gave her fingers a squeeze. "Now, I've left your hands free, but no naughty business, got it?"

She nodded, her cheeks tight and flushed.

Setting aside the wand vibrator, he removed the ropes from her legs next and then left her side. She drew one foot up on the chair and stared at the imprints the ropes had left on her limb. They didn't feel that different from when clothes or bedsheets marked the body, but she still marveled at the crisscross texture. Running her fingertips over the ridges, she noticed some areas were slightly tender, maybe where she had strained. Still...she liked them. She wasn't sure _why_ , but she did.

"How long do the marks last?" she asked.

"Varies," he answered. "Most, only a few hours." 

Fabric snapped, and she looked up to see Lucifer laying out several black towels on the floor, beneath the waiting rope. Other fresh rope bundles and the tray of food and jars lay nearby. 

Leaning forward, Chloe squinted and did a double take when she recognized the branding on one of the jars. "Lenore's Honey, _really_?" She hadn't even known the woman had continued her business after her husband Bob's murder.

"What?" Lucifer scoffed, glancing between her and the jar. "The Devil likes to support small business. Besides, there's just something about"—he waved a hand in thought—"avocado honey. Who knew? L.A. must be getting to me."

"Are you going to put that on me?" A corner of her lip curled up in distaste.

"If I feel like it."

Chloe breathed a laugh. "Right."

He held out a hand. "Stand for me."

Putting her hands in his, she got to her feet. She grimaced slightly at the cooling dampness between her legs.

Lucifer knelt before her again. He pressed a soft kiss between her hips, where pale stretchmarks streaked her skin, and went about tying a second harness. He smoothed jute low around her waist, near her hipbones, and crossed it down to her thighs on either side, wrapping it just below where thigh met middle. Chloe watched the process with curiosity, enjoying that she could see nearly all of his work from this angle. He tied ropes the way he played the piano, like he couldn't help but put his soul into it. As though the ropes, like the music, were an extension of himself.

When the harness was finished, it looked as though she was wearing a crimson outline of short shorts. A thick, central knot sat where a belt buckle might.

"Have a seat, Detective," Lucifer said, jerking his chin toward the floor.

She looked at the black towels doubtfully. With her arms bound in front of her, it was safer to kneel first. As she dropped to one knee before Lucifer, it should have been funny or arousing. He was very naked and very in the mood; in truth, so was she. But instead she felt time's echo, not unlike the sensation experienced deep in a history museum richly filled with ancient artifacts. How many had knelt before him, on Earth and in Hell, for pleasure, for pain, for punishment? 

Lucifer palmed the left side of her face and gave her a look, a gift, that reminded her she was one of a kind and favored by a king.

The heavy moment passed, and she sat, folding her legs to one side. The hard marble was only slightly softened by the towels and rug. 

Lucifer lowered himself beside her, his gaze fathomless. Leaning on one hand, he swept the other up and down her body, from the tips of her toes to the arch of her brow. Wherever his fingers trailed, gooseflesh followed.

"I want to suspend you a little," he said, trailing kisses along her shoulders and neck. "Nothing too intense. I'm certain you can handle it, Detective." 

"Okay." She shivered. 

Reaching out a long arm, he took hold of the dangling rope and drew it close. Slipping two fingers beneath the knotted belt at her waist, he united the rope hanging from the suspension ring with her hip harness using a series of loops and slip knots.

"Lie down," he instructed, and helped her ease back on the uncomfortably large knot of the pentagram. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead.

Lying bound and on her back, she felt as physically vulnerable with him as she often did emotionally. As though he had seen right through her and had merely brought to the surface all that she was, deep down. She looked at him and was overwhelmed by affection and gratitude. 

He noticed her staring and gave another soft smile, and she knew that he understood. He could be so obtuse about things sometimes, but he was right that desire was his domain. He read her better in the bedroom—or, say, on the penthouse floor—than elsewhere, and she had learned he was easier to understand here, too. 

Holding her gaze, he began to tug.

Chloe gasped as her hips lifted off the floor.

"You're okay," Lucifer said, touching her arm.

She nodded, and his hand departed. She looked up at herself in the reflective ceiling as he pulled the rope again. This time she was more prepared for the sensation and gave into it, trusting that it would hold. 

Lucifer continued to lift her and add small knots down the length of the rope, until at last he tied it in place when her hips floated a good two feet off the floor. It left her back and legs bowed, her petite breasts arched high in their red-roped frame. She rested her bound wrists against her waist, just above the hip harness.

"Feeling okay?"

"I'm good," she sighed, resting in the firm grip of the jute on her hips and thighs.

He reached for something out of her line of sight. Bringing his hand in front of her, he shook free a strip of black silk she was well-acquainted with by now. "Close your eyes, Detective."

Lifting and cradling her head, he rested the silk over her eyes and tied it in place. She felt him lean away from her, and suddenly something slightly rough prickled at her lips.

"Open," Lucifer said, and after a moment's hesitation she obeyed. A rounded point pressed into her mouth, and it was then that her nose scented strawberry. "Bite."

Lucifer fed her—strawberries, blueberries, sweet honeydew and cantaloupe, tart and herbed cheeses. Food always tasted better when she couldn't see it and think about sugar and fat content.

She sighed again when he finally rested her head back to the floor. Though she tried to listen closely to his movements, they became hard to follow over the sound of the music and the sea of sensation.

"I'm going to tie your legs now," he said, and his voice sounded from near her feet.

"Okay," Chloe hummed.

Deep relaxation overtook her as he bent first her right leg, so that her heel was pressed just to the right beneath her ass. Jute wound around flesh, and she felt the central rope quiver as he joined the ropes on her leg with the rest of the ties. He repeated the process on her left leg. When he was finished, her entire lower half floated in the air.

Lucifer rejoined her, sitting near her head. Warm hands slipped beneath her upper body and lifted. Head resting in the crook of one of his elbows, she felt like a ragdoll as he swayed her gently, letting her feel the strength of the ropes and his arms. A soft moan passed her lips.

"Feels good letting go, doesn't it?" he asked, and the words rumbled in his chest.

She nodded.

A few minutes later, he rested her back again, and she discovered a soft, flat pillow was waiting. And though the knot of the pentagram still pressed between her shoulders, she was suspended enough that the pressure was gone. 

Something warm drizzled down her torso, and she twitched. 

"Easy, Detective," Lucifer soothed, running a hand up and down one of her legs.

She laughed softly at herself. She wasn't sure what he had put on her. It wasn't thick enough to be the honey, nor was it as thin as water or light oil. But it didn't matter at all as his mouth soon followed the trail that had slithered down the right side of her rib cage. His tongue, warm and wet, glided along her skin.

More of the liquid, or perhaps some other liquid, was drizzled on her body, and with each pass of his mouth, she coiled tight with want of release.

When he was done with this torture, something heavy and thick layered across her nipples. _That_ was honey; she was sure of it, but could no longer care. He clutched her breasts in his hands and suckled her, slow and deep, until she was left panting.

"Please," Chloe whimpered.

"You're doing so well," he said, cosseting her.

He gave no quarter as he repeated the process on her breasts, until her short panting turned into loud gasps beneath his lips and hands. She jerked against the harness.

Then it all stopped. 

"Please," she breathed, almost desperate. 

"Shh." Hands covered her tied and bent knees, and slid inward, down her thighs.

Chloe cried out when lips tucked around her clit and sucked. Hands clutched her bound rear and rocked her closer to his face. He licked her slowly, lightly, too gently to do anything but worsen her hunger. The ropes dug into her skin as her muscles bunched and she sought much-desired friction.

"Yellow," she gasped.

The blindfold was torn from her head. Chloe inhaled sharply and blinked as light flooded her senses. Lucifer's face swam into focus where he was leaning on the central rope, reaching for her from where he sat up on his knees between her spread legs. He tossed aside the silk.

"Okay?" he asked, caressing her thigh.

She nodded.

"I'll make it better," he promised, petting her again.

Pinned by his dark gaze, she trembled once more as he hooked his hands around her thighs. His cock pressed at the entrance of her sex, and it was the sweetest, purest ache. Using the ropes on her hips, he dragged her body onto his, until he was seated within her.

"So _good_ , Detective," Lucifer purred, sliding away and slamming back. " _So_ good," he said again, looking down at where their bodies met.

Chloe's head slid up and down the soft pillow, pulling strands of hair free from her braid, as he built a relentless rhythm. As he moved, as her body accepted him gladly, there was nothing but desire bending her to its will, to his. 

A thumb pressed to her clit and circled roughly, and Chloe cried out. Reaching his other arm forward, Lucifer grasped hold of the pentagram harness and jerked her front half into the air. He rolled his hips, and it was enough. It was enough.

Her head fell back as she came, floating in the air, her muscles clenching against ropes, against Lucifer. Distantly, she heard his moaning, and her mouth quirked in a small smile as he thrust hard and spilled within her. 

And then she was raised up as he scrabbled and lifted her toward him. The suspension rope hung between them as Lucifer clutched at her and kissed her deeply, murmuring praises that made her blush. They parted gently, and she rested her cheek against his, too tired, too dreamy, to do anything else.

Lucifer rested her back once again and slid from her body. He moved quickly, loosening knots, breaking ropes with his bare hands, maybe for expedience and maybe to show off. Carefully, he lowered her hips to the floor.

When the last of the jute skimmed away from her skin, Lucifer brought a glass of water to her lips. She sat up on her side and drank her fill before handing it back to him. He downed the rest of it and fell onto his side next to her, pulling her close. She curled into him, her nose touching his. The world did not exist outside of this room.

He brushed hair from the side of her sweat-dampened face and looked at her as if she were the period at the end of his sentence. For a long time, they were quiet as they touched each other and entwined their legs.

"Did you get what you needed?" he asked softly.

Chloe nodded, eyes stinging because she hadn't even understood that she needed it. "Thank you," she whispered. "What about you?"

"Do you know," Lucifer sighed deeply, "I think I did, darling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter? 😂


End file.
